It's All Relative
by LilyMoon'sAlias
Summary: After the events of Gluhen, Crawford follows his visions to New York to rescue Fujimiya Ran after he is attacked. But what are his reasons?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: After the events of Gluhen, guided by his visions, Crawford tracks Fujimiya Aya to New York and rescues him after he is attacked before the agents of Krypton Brand can acquire him. As always, I don't own Weiss Kreuz, nor do I profit in any way from my stories other than my personal satisfaction. This will contain m/m interaction. If it offends you, please hit the back button. More explicit verson can be cound on Mediaminer. Enjoy!

"Braaad, tell me we are here for a damn good reason. I hate New York! It's dirty. It's cold. There are too many people to block out of my head. I want to go home."

Crawford ignored Schuldig's whining complaints as usual, only registering them on a subconscious level as an irritating buzz to be later examined at leisure later in case anything of importance had been said.

"Crawford, I am talking to you!"

Crawford continued to ignore his partner. The moment of his vision was close at hand. The man he had 'seen' months ago was coming close and totally oblivious to his danger. He was walking slowly through the crowds on the sidewalk, head down and apparently lost in thought. Crawford was vaguely irritated at the absent minded posture. Had the fool lost all of his instincts and sense of self preservation in the intervening months since the battle at the academy? His vision had shown the man attacked and badly injured, but not how. It personally and professionally offended Crawford that it would happen from mere distraction.

"Be quiet, Schuldig." Crawford never raised his voice beyond normal speaking level, but such was his authority he might as well have snapped a command. "Our target is almost here."

Never liking being told to settle down like a child Schuldig sneered and said, "If you gave some clue I could help locate him."

"There's no need." Crawford said, smugly. "He's coming right to us."

Schuldig swiped his wild orange mane from his face and widened his eyes in shock at the Weiss kitten, Fujimiya Aya, meandering down the street. Abyssinian was their target? What the hell was Crawford up to now? The man had been alternately meditative and unpredictable in his decisions for months. Schuldig knew that the final battle with Berger had severely injured his leader, but now he was convinced That Crawford had sustained some sort of brain damage.

The battle had been brutal and not only physically injurious but emotionally as well. Farfarfello would not be returning to Schwarz, having found something he considered more worthwhile to pursue, and Nagi chose to work for Takatori Mamoru. Schwarz was reduced to it's two original members just as in the beginning.

Schuldig was fairly sure that Crawford had not taken a freelance contract to kill Fujimiya so he must have other plans in mind. Schuldig jerked in surprise as the truth hit him. Crawford didn't want to kill Abyssinian. He wanted to recruit him. The unlikely thought made the telepath laugh out loud and earned him a slight frown of disapproval from his leader.

"You have got to be kidding me! He'll never agree to that."

"I've reason to believe he will." The Precog returned, coolly. "After all he will owe us his life."

"What!"

"Watch and wait, Schuldig. It's all about to unfold. We just have to get there before the other group picks him up first."

"What other group?"

"Wait and see."

Gods, Schuldig hated it when the bastard was being cryptic, but there was nothing to do but wait. He only hoped that Crawford was being guided by a vision and not just some crazed idea.

A flurry of disturbance in the crowd revealed a child, not yet out of grade school run through the crowd and headlong into Fujimiya. Schuldig's sharp eyes caught the pained grimace after the collision, but Fujimiya kept on walking as if nothing had happened. Only the hand wrapped around his abdomen betrayed any pain. Crawford sent Schuldig for their waiting car while he shadowed the wounded man's slow, faltering steps. Eventually, Fujimiya could go no further and slumped down against a mailbox. People passed him by without a second look, assuming him to be either drunk or a vagrant. Humans had amazing talent for ignoring unpleasant sights.

Crawford moved undetected right to Fujimiya's side. He heard the man whisper with some degree of irony.

"Guess Yohji was right after all."

The black sedan pulled to the curb just as Crawford caught the body sliding over into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

"Hello, Abyssinian. Been awhile." Crawford smirked but kept the man from hitting the pavement.

Fujimiya struggled to focus on the vaguely familiar voice. Recognizing Crawford he gave a little bark of a laugh, trickling blood from his mouth.

"Always knew I was going to hell. I would never believed you would be the welcoming committee." He rasped and dropped into the blackness.

Crawford easily lifted the unconscious weight with the strength bestowed by his gift and placed his burden into the backseat of the luxury sedan, climbing in afterwards and pressing a folded handkerchief firmly over the wound after removing the blade. Schuldig watched with suspicious eyes before moving smoothly into traffic at Crawford's nod. He already knew they were returning to their newly stocked safe house.

"So, we have an injured kitty. Now what, Oh Secretive One?"

Satisfied that the acquisition had gone as smoothly as he had envisioned, Crawford all a small smile, just barely lifting the corners of his mouth, grace his face.

"Now it begins"  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Aya twisted and thrashed in the bed. He was too hot and miserable. Dark flashes of pain stabbed him repeatedly in the abdomen. Nightmarish images of devils, angels, and blood-dripping blades circled his fevered dreams. Trapped in the never ending circle of death, he couldn't make his voice heard above his victims' screams. His warnings were always too late. In flickering, stop motion photography his sister was struck down by a speeding car. In an endless repeat, the event occurred over and over again as he lay pinned and helpless to help her.

The scene changed to crumbling ramparts falling inexorably towards the cold blackness of the sea. Without fail, each member of his team had looked to him for guidance. Aya had no answer. He could only fall with the rest of them and struggle against the terrible pressure trying to force burning salt into his lungs. Somehow they had crawled from the sea, but Aya had sensed a difference after that day. He had proved to be only human. He had saved no one. Manx and Sakura had saved his sister and he and his team had fallen together to what should have been their deaths.

More recent memories morphed in the dreamscape as tragic events starring Aya as the failure, the one who could not save Kyo, or an innocent school teacher, young Sena, and Yohji, the only person he had ever called friend and truly felt the connection. His only friend and, in the end, he had failed Yohji, too, letting Yohji make the sacrifice so the rest of the team could escape. Aya had struggled through the debris of the shattered complex, but never found Yohji or his katana that Yohji had used to cut down Tsuji in the end. He had conceded defeat when his torn and bloodied hands couldn't turn another stone. Yohji was gone, seemingly crushed into the dust and obliterated.

Aya keened an animalistic wail of despair in his sleep and fought harder against the veil of dreams. Cool hands smoothed over his fevered brow and a soft, deep voice whispered words of comfort directly into his ear. Aya turned away from the soothing presence. He deserved no such comfort, not him, not he who had failed so many and whose hands were stained with so much blood. The insistent voice persevered, calling repeatedly for him to wake, and the soothing touch returned to ease his physical pains.

Tired of fighting, Aya reluctantly surfaced from his nightmares and opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Still feverish and disoriented, he took note of a throbbing pain in his gut and slightly stained white bandages circling his middle. Squinting his eyes in an effort to narrow his focus and block the pain, Aya remembered being stabbed by a mere child right on the street. His eyes popped open wide and he frantically scanned the room when he recalled that Crawford and Schwarz had appeared and whisked him away.

Aya rubbed his eyes in confusion. What the hell did they want? If they wanted him dead, they could have killed him already while he was incapacitated. Instead, his wound had been treated and he was tucked into a large, clean bed. Either Schwarz was trying to lull him into a false sense of security or he had finally slipped into madness and believed them capable of caring and compassion. Whatever the reason, it was time to leave, now.

Easier thought about than done. Aya's first attempt to sit upright left him flopping gracelessly back into the pillows, gritting his teeth against the pain. He panted against the pain and lifted himself up on his elbows and swinging his legs down only to slide in a heap to the floor. Frustrated by his weakness, Aya forgot about caution and slammed his fist angrily into the hardwood floor. Almost on cue, the bedroom door opened and Crawford entered, balancing a tray and smirked knowingly at Aya's predicament.

"I knew you would try this. I figured I better come before you tear all your stitches."

"Did you have a vision about me waking?" Aya snarled.

"I didn't need one. My office is next door and I've been listening all day. I could hear you quite clearly. What I 'saw' was you doing more damage to yourself."

Aya concealed his face with his raggedly cut hair and hoped Crawford hadn't heard him crying out in his sleep. The humiliation was unthinkable.

Crawford ignored the other man's embarrassment and set his tray on a table.

"You're clearly weak from blood loss and you probably can't remember when you last ate. You've been out for a day and a half. I'll help you back into the bed and you'll eat. It's a Western style breakfast. I'm sure you've been in the United States long enough that it will be acceptable."

Aya would have preferred to gut Crawford but his weakened condition made it impossible at present. Fuming, he allowed Crawford to haul him up to the bed and stack pillows behind his back to allow him to sit up without strain. Crawford placed the tray over Aya's legs and waved a hand over the meal after removing a cup of coffee for himself.

"It's green tea, no sugar, eggs, steak and toast." He sipped from his cup as Aya eyed the tray with suspicion. Crawford sighed, impatiently. "It's not poisoned. I didn't bring you here and treat your injury just to kill you with a meal. Eat. You need the protein to build back your strength."

It amused Crawford that Aya sniffed warily at the tea before gingerly taking his first taste. It amused him further when Aya raised his eyebrows in surprise that the tea was prepared well. Most people tended to murder a cup of tea by over steeping the leaves until it resembled acidic paint remover. Encouraged, Aya took a larger drink and selected a piece of toast.

Thirst abated, Aya asked, "Where exactly is here, why did you bring me here and what do you want from me?"

"Here is where Schuldig and I live while in the States. To be more exact, you are in my bedroom. Why is that you almost died from a planned hit executed by a child."

Crawford patiently finished his coffee while Aya mulled over his answers. Dark amethyst eyes whirled with confusion.

"Why am I in your bed?" Aya asked the question that disturbed him the most at the moment.

Crawford shrugged. "The other rooms are empty now that Nagi and Farfarello are pursuing other avenues of employment. I couldn't very well put you on the floor or on the love seat in my office."

Aya pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and rubbed a hand over his aching side. Nothing made sense. Not only had his enemy saved him, he had treated the stab wound, put Aya into his own bed, and then heightened the surreal situation by serving him breakfast in bed.

"I'm in your bed." Aya mumbled in a daze.

Crawford smiled a little, an expression that seemed foreign on the man's face to Aya. "Schuldig offered his bed, but I believe his stipulations were that you be naked, gagged and bound to the bed."

Aya gasped in outrage and dropped his toast from nerveless fingers to the plate. "No!" He seethed. "No and never!"

Crawford's smile widened and a low chuckle rumbled from his throat. "I told him you would say that."

Appetite destroyed, Aya shoved the nearly full tray to the side, crossed his arms and glared at Crawford. A lesser man would have been frightened by the malevolence in that frigid, purple glare. Crawford looked as cool and unruffled as ever.

"You still haven't said what you want from me."

That was Aya, always blunt and tactless, with no time for subtlety.

"Very well," Crawford capitulated. "Half my team is gone. I want you to join with Schuldig and I as part of Schwarz. You need a job, and I need someone with your skills."

Aya's jaw dropped open in disbelief then he covered his face with both hands, clenching his fingers in his crimson hair. He actually went so far as to pinch himself several times.

"Gods, it's true," He muttered from between his fingers. "I died and I really am in hell."

Crawford snorted contemptuously, collected his empty cup and rose to leave the room. He paused at the doorway.

"Just think about it, Aya. It's safer and more profitable to work with a quality team. Weiss is no more. Krittiker doesn't want you back. They think you are unreliable now. You're still an assassin and those aren't exactly skills you can put on a job resume. Eat your breakfast. You need it, and use your recovery time to think about my offer."

The bedroom door latched with a barely audible click, leaving behind an assassin whose world had flipped upside down completely. Crawford faced the telepath who had been lounging on his leather office chair.

"I know you were 'listening'. What's he thinking?"

Schuldig's lips parted in his trademark smirk.

"He thinks you're nuts, he's going mad, and I'm Satan's party planner." Schuldig laughed brightly. "I knew this wouldn't be easy, but I didn't think it would be this much fun."

Crawford rolled his eyes at the telepath and booted him from his office to get to his computer. Someone had to work, and manipulating finances gave Crawford a natural high that allowed him to avoid thinking about the pitiful cries he had heard from the assassin who kept his emotions coiled tight while awake and was haunted by them at night.  
TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

Aya waited a few minutes to see if the door would reopen. When it didn't he returned his attention to the breakfast tray. Although he didn't trust Crawford, part of his speech was true. Aya needed to eat to regain his strength. He finished the toast and eggs, grimacing a little over the fact they were cold. The steak he left to rest in its congealing fat. Aya had never gained any understanding about the American fascination with giant slabs of artery clogging cow flesh. 

He poured himself another cup of tea from the little ceramic pot on the tray and sipped thoughtfully. So, Crawford wanted him to be part of Schwarz. The idea both intrigued and confused Aya. What possible use could he be to people like Oracle and Mastermind? He didn't possess any gifts like theirs. It was preposterous to believe he could fill either one of the two open positions. Aya almost dropped his cup. It was even more ridiculous to realize he was giving the proposal serious consideration. Why the hell was he even thinking about it? The answer should have been simple. They were the bad guys, the dark beasts, right? They were assassins, killers, murderers for hire. Definitely the bad guys, and Aya was...Aya was...what? Crimson hair slid forward to cover his pale face as Aya floundered to define himself and raise him above Crawford and Schuldig.

Aya shook his head in irritation and slumped back into the pillows of Crawford's bed. He didn't want to think any more. He was tired, his gut ached like a bitch and he was at the mercy of two men he had never bested in combat. It was safe to say his current situation sucked and Aya couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better if he had died in the street.

"Depressing little thing, aren't you, Abby Cat?" Schuldig asked from the doorway.

Aya flinched. There. That just topped it all. He hadn't even heard the telepath come in the room. Aya glared daggers at the German for accentuating his humiliation. Schuldig frowned at him and crossed the room to take the chair by the bed.

"You're giving me a headache, Abby, with all this angsting."

"Fuck you."

Schuldig flashed a predatory grin. "Are you offering, Abby?"

"Not interested, and don't call me that."

"Such prudishness. I expected better from you since we're already so intimate at the moment."

Aya closed his eyes, fighting the exhaustion and pain that wanted to drag him back under. He was starting to shiver with chills.

"What the hell are you talking about, Schuldig?"

"Just that you are wearing a pair of my favorite silk boxers. Your clothes were bloody and ruined." Schuldig leaned closer and licked his lips before leering. "Not exactly an indirect kiss, but you get the idea."

Hazy, purple eyes opened half way in disbelief. Damn. Damn. Damn! Aya wanted to strangle the telepath. He couldn't get his body to cooperate and dimly heard Schuldig yelling for Crawford as he fell into darkness.

Aya woke periodically to voices and gentle touches. Hands carefully unwrapped the seeping bandages and changed them. Someone picked him up and held him like a child while commanding the bedding be changed. That same someone cradled his head and coaxed his lips to open and swallow several medications with water. Aya fell into a deeper sleep listening to the deep, soothing voice. His pain and he kept a death grip on a linen shirt, subconsciously knowing it would keep the voice close.

Crawford twitched reflexively and nearly snarled at the watching German. "You were supposed to be monitoring him, Schuldig. How did he get this bad so quickly?"

"Nt"I'm no doctor, Brad! He was stabbed in the gut and he's not like us. He won't heal like us. He was thinking about being better off dead and dropped like a rock." Schuldig snapped back.

Crawford tried again to disengage himself from hands that held him with desperate strength. He gave up and relaxed into the bedding, swiping silver hair from his eyes.

"I can't get loose. What the hell is he thinking now.?"

Schuldig closed his eyes to concentrate. When he reopened them he smirked at Crawford.

"All I can tell is he likes your voice. Right now he's comforted by it." Schuldig chuckled wickedly. "The Great Oracle being used as a living teddy bear!"

"I will kill you for this, Schuldig."

"You have to escape the claws of the Abby Cat, first, mein Oracle."

"Be useful and get me some coffee. It's going to be a long night."

"Whatever you want, snuggly bear." Schuldig purred and dodged the clock thrown his way. He dropped his smirk and spoke to Crawford seriously. "Aya's different than he used to be, Crawford. Something changed him in that last mission. He's let himself be more human." Schuldig stopped speaking and absently pulled at a lock of flaming hair.

"And?"

"Are you sure about this, Crawford? He might be right. What good is an assassin with no self confidence left?"

"We'll bring him back."

"You've 'seen' this, then?"

Honeyed brown eyes met blue.

"Yes." Crawford answered.

"There's one other thing. It may be helpful in getting him to join us."

"Yes?"

"He's terribly, horribly lonely, Crawford." Schuldig left his leader to get the demanded coffee.

With the prying eyes of his telepath gone, Crawford smoothed ragged, sweat damp hair back from Aya's pale face. His face didn't show it, but he smiled inwardly when Aya clutched him tighter in his sleep. Yes, Aya's loneliness could be used to convince him to stay. Crawford wasn't above using emotions as tools when it suited his purpose.

"Your ours now, Abyssinian."


	4. Chapter 4

Aya was warm, warmer than he had been in longer than he could remember. He became aware of another, more unfamiliar feeling, one that had been missing in his life since before his parents died. His dazed and exhausted mind fumbled until it came up with the word...safe. That was it. Aya felt safe, and in his relief, he relaxed enough to notice the lessening of a strangling tension in his body. That is until he remembered where he was.

Aya's cheek was pressed into a warm...someone, and his left hand was fisted in a linen shirt. He started to jerk backwards in shock when an arm curved around his back and held him still.

"You're all right. Don't jump or you'll just tear the stitches again." Crawford's deep voice washed over him and tamped down the panic.

The panic may have settled, but embarrassment was encroaching fast on its heels. If anyone he knew could see Aya now, they would probably stare in open mouthed shock at seeing him snuggled cozily with a member of Schwarz before shooting him as a traitor. The thought was enough to have him pulling away, albeit more carefully, from Crawford. Aya thanked whatever Gods were listening that the older man let him go easily.

"What? What's going on here?" Aya silently damned himself that the question came out shaky and uncertain rather than the harsh demand he meant it to be.

"You took a turn for the worse. I stayed to make sure you would be okay during the night." Crawford answered with a small smile. Gauging the redhead's acute embarrassment he chose to leave out that Aya had refused to let him go. "Do you feel strong enough to make it to the bathroom on your own?"

Weighing his pride against his current weakness, Aya had to grudgingly shake his head and admit he couldn't make it alone.

"If you could just..." He trailed off, unable to complete the request for help.

Crawford didn't force him to finish. He helped Aya to the edge of the bed and braced the injured side to help him to stand. Aya clutched his arm tightly until the wave of dizziness passed and his legs chose to accept his weight. Slow steps took them across the room into the adjoining bathroom where a plastic chair stood in the middle of a walk in shower.

Crawford unwound the bandages and examined the wound before sealing it over with a clear, waterproof dressing. He placed toiletries within reach on a low shelf and fresh towels on table. An obviously new robe was taken from a bag and added to the table. Aya watched all this mutely and only nodded his thanks when Crawford handed him the shower hose.

"I trust you can handle the rest on your own?" No sarcasm, although Aya almost expected it, just quiet concern.

"I can do it. You...you've done enough."

"It's another advantage to being part of a team, Aya, having someone to back you up when needed." Crawford chose his next words with deliberate care. "I make sure my team is cared for. No one is left to struggle alone."

The quiet words struck a chord in Aya's lonely soul. It had been too long since someone had cared about his welfare. Even then he hadn't let anyone get too close. He might have been part of Weiss but he had never let any of them help him except in dire need. He sure as hell had never woke up in bed cuddled with a teammate. His cheeks burned momentarily at the memory. Not even to himself, yet, could Aya admit that it had been pleasant to have someone beside him, especially the coolly aloof Oracle. He gave a watered down version of his usual glare to the man observing him.

"I haven't said I would join you."

Crawford inclined his head in acknowledgement. "But you are thinking about it, aren't you?"

"I'm thinking. Now, get out, and let me have some privacy."

Crawford left Aya to his ablutions, totally unconcerned over the redhead's rude dismissal. He decided to clean up as well and air the empty room that used to be Nagi's. He knew, without a doubt, that it would be in use soon.

Aya used the shower and shampooed his hair as well, glad for the opportunity. His fastidious nature didn't allow any slacking in that department. Occasionally he paused in his washing in puzzlement. What he previously thought he knew of Schwarz and what he was seeing now kept circling his mind. Crawford wasn't behaving in any manner other than solicitous and even Schuldig had refrained from manipulating his thoughts. Or had he? Aya wasn't sure, but he didn't think so.

Aya levered himself back to his feet with a grip on the vanity and pulled the robe around himself. He used one hand to towel his hair before dropping it to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Haunted, needy purple eyes looked back. Aya thought about the fleeting contentment he had felt lying against Crawford's comforting solidness before he fully awoke. He touched the stab wound. He would need help if he wanted to find out who was behind the attack and admitted to himself that going it alone was more unpalatable than ever. Something unknown stirred in his chest and he rubbed his knuckles over the area and sneered at his reflection. He was so damn tired of being alone, dead to the rest of the world. At least Crawford and Schuldig knew who and what he was. There was some history between them, most of it unpleasant, but still there. They had fought a common enemy at the academy. What was the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my...friend?

Aya trailed his fingers through the mist on the mirror.

"Fujimiya, you are so screwed up."

Aya knew what answer he would give Crawford when the man returned.

Perhaps the Oracle had a vision or maybe he could read into a man's soul. In any case, when Crawford returned he had Schuldig in tow, the telepath looking decidedly disgruntled about leaving his bed so early. Aya belted the robe around his thin frame and accepted a little less reluctantly the arm offered to him in assistance. Schuldig sidled to his other side and bared his straight, white teeth in a winning smile. It made him look less arrogant, almost charming. From behind his back the telepath produced Aya's very own katana, no doubt swiped from his apartment while he was unconscious.

Aya narrowed his eyes at the presumption and reached for the weapon. He turned to Crawford and answered the man's unspoken question with a nod, although he was sure Crawford already knew. He would swear honey brown eyes sparked warmly at him before Crawford's face smoothed into business like blandness.

"Welcome to Schwarz, Aya. We'll have your things moved from your old apartment to one of the other rooms today."

"Or you could always share with me, Abby Cat." Schuldig's smile had morphed into his usual smirk.

Aya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why had he ever thought the telepath's smile was charming? The man was a menace, assassin or not. Aya held his katana tighter and let his voice chill with his old disdain.

"I want one thing straight from the start. I am not Abby Cat, kitty, kitten, katzchen, or any other silly name. I'll never answer to them. I am Aya or Abyssinian."

"Of Schwarz." Crawford clarified and held out his right hand.

Aya clasped the warm palm and felt destiny swirl around him.

"Of Schwarz." He agreed.

The actual moving of Aya's belongings was accomplished so quickly and efficiently that he strongly suspected his apartment had been boxed up the same day Crawford had picked him up off the street. Aya didn't know whether to be amused or irritated at the highhandness. On one hand it irked him to be predicted, on the other it was somewhat a relief to have someone willing to handle the onerous chore.

The bed Aya had purchased upon arriving in New York was made up and ready in the bedroom between Crawford's and Schuldig's. Each bedroom in the large house had its own adjoining bathroom so sharing wasn't necessary. Still keeping a careful arm around his side Aya moved slowly and arranged his meager belongings to his satisfaction. His ascetic lifestyle meant there wasn't much to occupy his time. For too many years Aya's whole life had revolved around a seemingly normal day job with missions of death at night to invalidate the normalcy. He had trained, worked, studied mission plans and slept. Nothing else. Injuries severe enough to incapacitate him had been few and far between. Empty time had been nonexistent.

Bluntly, Aya now had time on his hands and no idea how to fill it. He didn't want to sit alone in his room and was reluctant to seek out his new teammates. The longer he sat by himself the more he questioned his decision. It wasn't like Aya to make decisions based on emotions rather than cold logic, but then he had to admit his logic had been faulty recently. If his head had been clear he wouldn't have been stabbed in the first place. The thoughts whirled in a vicious circle with no clearly defined answer.

"Aya?" Crawford's voice came from the open doorway and jerked him from his reverie. "Come into my office with us. I have the fireplace going. New York winters can be harsh."

The words were more invitation than anything else. Aya shrugged to himself and followed Crawford, drawn more by the hint of companionship than the promised warmth of the fire. 


	5. Chapter 5

Aya went to bed early, his body demanding the extra rest. He had paused in the hallway to look towards Crawford's door before entering the unfamiliar room now his own. Aya wanted the oblivion of sleep and it eluded him. Something was missing, what he didn't care to name. Giving in to impulse he wrapped his arms around a pillow, pressing his forehead into it and willed his breathing to slow.

In the den Schuldig swirled some brandy in an oversized balloon glass.

"He's thinking of you, snuggly bear."

Crawford angled his head to make the light flash in the lenses of his glasses. "Why haven't I killed you, yet?"

"I'm too useful, not to mention a fantastic lay." Schuldig placed his glass on Crawford's desk and slid his hands up the man's chest to twine around his shoulders and lightly tugged the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Crawford didn't bother to push Schuldig away. He learned long ago the telepath only got more excited by a struggle. Soft strands of red hair brushed his cheek as Schuldig nipped at his neck above the collar. Crawford suppressed a groan as a flash of a different shade of red floated across his vision. Schuldig must have caught the stray thought and pulled back to stare at his leader.

"You really want the Abyssinian, don't you?" He let go of Crawford and retrieved his glass to down the fine brandy like water. "Well, damn, the Oracle is just a man after all."

"I've never been 'just' anything, Schuldig."

"Ja, ja." Schuldig flapped his hand airily. "We all know of your inhuman perfection. I don't blame you, though. I'd tumble the kitten myself. That's one fine, tight little body and his mind is so thoroughly fucked up I would enjoy ta.."

Crawford lifted the telepath off his feet with a hand around his throat. Dark honey eyes opaque with anger bore into blue ones with deadly intent.

"The Abyssinian is not yours to touch, Schuldig."

Schuldig had both hands scrabbling at Crawford's wrist. "You never objected before." He wheezed.

"Don't test me on this. You wouldn't like the result."

Crawford shoved him away. Schuldig curved his lips in a pretty pout and rubbed his reddened throat.

"Bastard. You better not have left marks."

"That's the least I'll do to you if you don't obey, Schuldig. Find another toy to amuse yourself."

"Whatever, Crawford. Only dogs have masters. I hope the kitty claws the shit out of you."

Crawford pulled Schuldig flush against his body and ground their hips together. He flashed his teeth and smirked into the smaller man's flushed face.

"You sound like a jealous woman."

Schuldig twisted from his hold. "Fuck you, Crawford! Until you pull that stick from your ass there's no room for anyone else up there."

"If you're going out, be quiet coming home. Don't wake Aya with your childishness."

"Don't wake Aya. Don't touch Aya. Anything else, mein fuhrer? Breakfast for two, maybe?" Schuldig spit furiously.

"Eggs soft boiled, three minutes."

Crawford watched his telepath stalk from the den, his red hair almost bristling with rage. And Schuldig wanted to call Aya a kitty? The younger man looked like a pissy cat in his jealous anger. Crawford chuckled wryly. Having two redheads in the house was certainly going to be entertaining.

Aya's wound healed cleanly. It left a star burst shaped scar just below his sternum and occasionally gave him a twinge of pain if his workouts were too strenuous. The scar and the pain served as a reminder to Aya that he had let himself be vulnerable. He performed his katas without fail every morning at daybreak. The huge expanse of lawn behind the secluded house had become his refuge and he started his day there.

In the month he had been a part of the Schwarz household Crawford and Schuldig had taken a few jobs by themselves. The first night he had been left alone to await their return Aya had found himself pacing in nervous agitation for their return. He reasoned to himself that he was the same way with Weiss, but carefully ignored the fact his eyes lingered over Crawford's pristine suit, looking for signs of injury. Aya didn't ask what the jobs entailed and Crawford didn't enlighten him since he wasn't involved.

In fact, Aya seemed to be trying to avoid Crawford. Sometimes he could feel the eyes of the precognitive following his movements. It left him feeling hyper aware of his surroundings and vaguely uncomfortable. He had fallen asleep more than once during his convalescence lulled by Crawford's voice. A couple of times Aya had been awakened from dreams that had a definite erotic trend to them and he hoped that Schuldig didn't catch any of it, but considering the smug, irritating looks the telepath sent his way on those mornings, his dreams were most likely just free porn for the sultry man.

Their interaction remained formal until Crawford appeared just as Aya was finishing his morning kata. Aya noticed Crawford was dressed in workout gear and soft soled shoes. He sheathed his katana and swiped his bangs from his eyes.

"How about a little hand to hand this morning, Aya? Do you feel up to it?"

"Why?"

Crawford smiled a little evilly. "Don't you recall our first meeting?"

Aya narrowed his eyes in remembrance. Crawford had easily turned aside Aya's attack on Takatori and flipped him, slamming him into the floor hard enough to momentarily stun him into immobility. If Omi hadn't been watching his back it might have been Aya's last mission.

"You have the advantage. You'll know my moves before I do."

"True." Crawford conceded. "But sparring with me will make your response time faster. You will eventually learn to fight by instinct rather than plan ahead. If you can do that it's possible I won't have time to see ahead. Some of our targets are going to be talents. You need to be prepared."

They circled each other in the dew wet grass. Aya let fly a flurry of kicks and punches, each one blocked by the American. He danced back as Crawford retaliated and took a glancing blow to the side of his head that made his eyes water.

"You always looked down on us. Normal humans, I mean. Why would you take jobs targeting people with talents like yours. Wouldn't that be killing your own kind?" Aya asked and dropped to the ground, trying for a sweep of the legs.

Crawford was already behind him and pinned Aya face down before he could straighten. Crawford flipped him over and sat on his hips, stretching his arms above his head. He leaned very close to stare into Aya's startled purple eyes.

"Because, Abyssinian, business is business and if it's a talent, then that's one less competitor to deal with. Ever since the fall of the Tower and the destruction of the Japanese academy the European factions have been looking to the West."

Aya tried unsuccessfully to pull his wrists free from Crawford's hold. Whatever genetics gave the man his precognitive abilities also made him preternaturally strong. Aya could now see the difficulties he would have fighting others like Crawford and Schuldig. It wasn't just a matter of training. It was genetic superiority. Aya quit struggling and wilted in defeat. Crawford released his wrists to catch his chin and force him into eye contact.

"You did well enough against the Z-class rabble. You will do better in the future."

Aya finally noticed that Crawford was straddling him and sitting directly on his groin. He shoved the older man off and scrambled to his feet. He busied himself gathering his shoes and weapons. Crawford watched the frantic retreat with a tiny smirk and purposely wrapped his arm around the shorter red head's shoulders, pulling him into his body. It amused Crawford to see the outwardly cold Abyssinian blush like a teenager.

"Tonight, there's a job for all three of us. It should be...fun as well as profitable."

Aya allowed himself to lean a little into Crawford's side, shyly pleased when he wasn't rebuffed.

"What kind of job? What do we have to do?" He asked as they walked to the back of the house.

Crawford's smile was decidedly wicked. "Our target frequents a particular club in the area. Schuldig can get in by clouding the doorman's mind so that he will see two people instead of three. We're his cover."

"Cover?" Aya echoed.

"If you have to get specific, Aya, you're going to be my date for the evening."

Aya stared at Crawford in slack mouthed disbelief. Crawford took advantage of his shock and parted lips to plant a lusty kiss on Aya's mouth. Without a trace of doubt or remorse, he chucked Aya under the chin to close his jaws.

"We're leaving at nine tonight. Schuldig will dress you from his wardrobe. I can't imagine you have too much clubbing gear, not to mention fetish wear." Crawford strolled off to the stairs for a shower, leaving behind a very confused assassin.

Aya touched a fingertip to his tingling lips. "Fetish wear? Oh, hell." 


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm not wearing that."

"Picky, Picky. Beggars can't be choosers, you know. What about this?"

"Where's the rest of it?"

"You have a nice body. You should show some skin."

"Some? That outfit leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. No."

"I think you are being purposefully bitchy. Here. One of my favorites."

"No, and hell no! That shirt just screams 'whore!'"

"That's not what it says."

"I am not wearing a shirt that has 'Bought and Paid For' printed on it in glitter."

"The redhead who wore the world's tackiest, clashing orange sweater on a regular basis is questioning my taste in fashion."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, really?"

"I'm saying you have no taste at all."

"How can you say that when you haven't sampled?"

Aya threw the gaudy shirt he was holding at Schuldig's head. "Is there anything in that closet even remotely respectable?"

"Respectable is boring, and you're supposed to be attracting attention."

"I'm the wrong person for this job." Aya pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You like to attract attention. You should be the distraction."

Schuldig arched an elegant eyebrow at him. "Are you the telepath then? Can you fish the information from a lust addled mind? No. So, you and Crawford make a splash and I do my thing. We leave. We might even get in some drinks and dancing first."

"I don't do either."

"Kitten, you have been so abused and deprived."

Gods, was that real sympathy and pity in Schuldig's voice? Aya couldn't stand that.

"Can we please just get on with this?" Aya pulled a pale lavender silk shirt and low riding leather pants from the closet. 

To Schuldig's amusement, he dressed in the privacy of his own room, finishing off the outfit with low heeled black boots and a simple gold chain. The telepath invited himself into the room and played with Aya's hair, much to his aggravation. The end result was tousled and sexy, veiling his orchid eyes and giving the impression he was keeping a secret. Aya slapped at his hands, but Schuldig managed to undo all but the middle two buttons of the shirt, leaving bare a toned chest and abdomen covered with soft pale skin. A light lining of kohl made Aya's exotic eyes look deeper and more mysterious. Schuldig finally released him after a spritzing of a very pleasant cologne.

"Outwardly you look like a hot, tasty morsel, but your mind says you're going to a funeral. Lighten up, Abyssinian, or you're going to blow it. I know you've been undercover before. You and Yohji even staked out an S & M club for a couple of nights."

"It was uncomfortable and demeaning. I hated every minute of it."

"Sooo, some people copped a few feels and you didn't even get the satisfaction of killing them. Poor baby." Schuldig stroked his cheeks with cool fingers. "Be glad you can't hear what really goes on in people's heads. I'm sure your body count would be much higher." Schuldig trailed his hand down Aya's bare chest and traced the waistband of the leather pants. "Suck it up and be a professional. Damn, I'm good. You look luscious."

"Yes, he looks good." Crawford lounged against the doorway. His dark charcoal suit with pale purple shirt and darker purple tie complemented Aya's attire perfectly. "I 'saw' what you would be wearing and dressed accordingly."

"You could have said something and saved me a few hours of aggravation." Aya sounded aggrieved.

"What and ruin all the fun?" Crawford's warm, honey eyes twinkled and he presented a blood red rose to Aya.

Aya hesitated to take it. "This isn't a real date, Crawford. It's a cover for a job."

"The smallest details can be important, and I leave nothing to chance, Abyssinian." Crawford caught Aya's free hand and curled it into the crook of his elbow. "We'll give them a good show, Schuldig will find out what we need to know and eliminate the target."

They got into the back seat of the car, Schuldig bitching about being designated driver. Crawford kept an arm around Aya to keep them touching.

"No one is watching, yet!" Aya protested.

"So, get used to it." Crawford countered. "Schuldig's right. You're going to blow it if you don't relax. If you don't want anyone else touching you, I can take care of that. It will just make me look possessive, but you can't be jumping every time I touch you."

Aya made a determined effort to relax. He leaned some of his weight against Crawford's body and pensively laced their fingers together on Crawford's knee. The ride was long enough for Aya to become accustomed to Crawford idly playing with his fingers and turning his head to whisper comments in his ear. That deep, smooth voice he clung to worked wonders on his tension. By the time they arrived at the club Aya was willing to take Crawford's hand for an assist from the car and remained pliant when his body was molded to Crawford's side.

However, he wasn't prepared for his effect on the crowd of people. Every pair of eyes they passed fixed themselves on the exotic looking man being escorted by the sexy, silver haired one. Aya's shoulders tightened painfully and he wished desperately for his katana. He felt more naked and exposed without his weapon than he did in the tight and revealing clothes. The difference was in the weight of the gaze, Aya decided. He had been stared at before, by the shop fangirls that swooped down in uniformed flocks, by the students that had watched him wistfully behind textbooks, but those looks had been mostly innocent. The eyes watching him here were rude and blatant, smoldering in intensity. Aya was trembling with tension again by the time they had traversed the club and were seated in a booth with the wall to their backs. Schuldig had shadowed them inside and was casing the crowd. No one paid any attention to the German so he had to be clouding their minds. He scanned the entire club and sent a message to Crawford.

/Not here, yet, and for God's sake, get the man a drink. He looks like he's going to pass out./

/You just keep your eyes open. I'll handle things here./

A waiter stopped at the table and openly admired Aya.

"What can I get for you gentlemen?"

"I'll have a Grey Goose martini," Crawford ordered. "And for my friend, I think, a 'Screaming Orgasm' to start."

/Oh God, look at his face! You are a devil, Brad./

/Shut up, Schuldig./ To Aya, "It's a drink, Aya. I don't think they serve rice wine here. Just try it."

"Hn."

Aya remained suspicious until the drinks arrived. His was a red concoction with a frilly little umbrella and cherries speared on a sword floating in it. He picked it up like it was poisonous and only sipped when Crawford smiled at him in challenge. The drink wasn't half bad, but the name puzzled him. Aya was no virgin, but the idea of a screaming orgasm eluded him, let alone naming a drink for one. He finished off the drink and sucked on one of the cherries, oblivious to the heated glances thrown his way.

/Fuck, that's hot! You better do something, Crawford, before someone tries to step in./

/No one would dare/ Crawford spared a lazy look for his telepath. /You better increase your shielding before someone notices the redhead stroking himself at the bar. Get it together, Schuldig. Reinhardt will be arriving soon. He can't see you./

Crawford plucked the cherry stem from Aya's lips.

"Another drink, love?"

Aya flushed with surprised pleasure until he remembered his role. Right, not a real date. He couldn't forget that. Crawford watched him try to withdraw into himself. He cupped the back of Aya's crimson head and brushed their cheeks together, whispering a tickling breath into his ear.

"You're doing fine, Aya. Have another drink. You need to trust me. We'll have to dance to keep Reinhardt's attention when he arrives."

Aya kept his wide, purple eyes trained on Crawford's face. Shit, Crawford was going to make him dance. It would be a horrendous spectacle, he was sure.

"Fine, then. What other strange American drink do you want to pour down my throat?" Aya murmured, his lips ghosting over Crawford's.

The Oracle blinked a few times. The Abyssinian was having quite an effect on him. He could hear Schuldig snickering in his mind as he reined in the impulse to devour the moist, red lips that surely tasted of cherries now. The snickering turned into a loud, braying laugh when he waved the waiter over and ordered their next drinks.

"Bring us two rounds of 'Fuck me Hard'."

Aya blushed hotly. "You Americans are so weird."

The new drinks arrived and Aya could swear it contained more alcohol than he had ever consumed before in one sitting. He gamely sipped half of it until he started to feel lightheaded. He felt loose enough to flirt with Crawford when Schuldig's voice rang in both their heads.

/Target's here. He's already homed in on you and Abby Cat./ Schuldig paused to concentrate and his next words dripped with disdain. /Pathetic. He doesn't recognize you without your glasses and with the silver hair. This will be too easy. Get on the dance floor and keep him distracted so I can pick his brain clean. Fucking idiot. He's too buzzed with lust to even bother shielding./

Crawford led Aya onto the dance floor. Schuldig must have been using his power because the crowd parted around them and left them in a more open space and the DJ obliged with a slow, sultry song that had a throbbing bass line.

"Crawford, I don't know how.."

"Trust me." Crawford placed Aya's arms around his neck, making it look like a show of control, and pulled their bodies tightly together. He parted Aya's legs easily and kept one thigh between them. "Just follow my body."

So close together, Aya could feel every inch of Crawford's hard body. The heat seared him through the thin silk of his shirt. He locked his hands behind Crawford's head and allowed the older man to steer his body, rubbing them together in time to the music. Aya gave himself up to the music and focused solely on the warm honey eyes that watched his every move with burning intensity. He threw his head back and bared the pale column of his throat as he moved against Crawford's thigh. His lips parted in open invitation as the music and the drinks combined to dissolve his last inhibitions and he ground himself against the other man's body. It had been so long, too long, since anyone had made him feel desired, since he had felt any desire for another person. Aya was drowning in sensation and hungry for more. 

Damning the consequences, Aya pulled Crawford's head down and covered his lips. The kiss was hot and demanding. Ever dominating, Crawford molded their hips together and took control of the kiss, gripping Aya's hair and plundering the depths of his mouth. Still moving with the music, they waged war with tongues and teeth, no obvious victor. Aya moaned into Crawford's mouth and tried to press himself closer, irritated with the clothes and wanting skin to skin contact. Crawford nipped his tongue and slid a hand up the back of the silk shirt to trace soothing patterns on sweat dewed skin. He could have this, Crawford thought. He could have this so easily and right here and now. Aya was right in his arms, wanton and willing...and at least partially drunk on some seriously hard liquor. Because he knew it would be over too soon Crawford drank again the sweetness of Aya's mouth, drawing moans of need from the usually cold man. They almost stopped dancing altogether to just rock in mimicry of a more intimate dance. All eyes were on them, including the eyes of their target.

/Break it up, kids. Job's done. I have the information and Reinhardt is a sack of meat in the dumpster out back./

Schuldig's voice dumped Aya back into harsh reality. He became aware of his panting breathing and painful arousal, the leather pants constricting him. He instinctively tried to follow Crawford's lips when the other man stepped back. His confusion shone from his purple eyes from beneath his mussed hair. Crawford winked at him, cool and composed as usual. Now, no one could look at him and tell he had been practically having sex on the dance floor a few minutes earlier. Aya felt frustrated and unfinished.

"Time to go." Crawford lead him by the hand off the dance floor and out the main entrance where Schuldig waited with the car. The telepath was buzzing with desire and had a wild and dangerous air about him.

Confused, aroused, and feeling unreasonably hurt, Aya climbed into the back seat and sat as far from Crawford as possible. The ride back to the house was spent discussing the information Schuldig had culled from the other talent. Aya only listened and remained silent. His head was starting to ache and his stomach was upset from the strong drinks. Schuldig let them out at the house and announced he was going back out to have some fun on his own. The telepath's blue eyes glowed with both his own and borrowed lust. He needed to find someone. Although he could taste Aya's unfulfilled desire, Schuldig didn't doubt Crawford would castrate him if he tried to 'soothe' the Abyssinian.

Aya turned to head for his room when Crawford stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Good job tonight, Aya."

Aya should have felt complimented or accomplished, instead he just felt a hollowness in his chest. It was just a job. Suddenly, he really wanted a shower and his bed. Crawford let him go and watched with thoughtful speculation as the redhead hurried up the stairs. 


	7. Chapter 7

Aya felt the presence at his back and whirled, bringing his katana down in a furious slice. Crawford slapped his hands together hard in front of his face, catching the metal blade mere inches from cleaving his head in half. Panting and shaking with adrenaline, Aya stepped back and let the tip of his blade rest on the ground before sheathing it in a smooth motion. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared angrily at Crawford.

"I hate when you do that. I hate that you are so sure I'll never cut you."

"Would it make any difference if I told you that I'm never sure until the very last moment?"

"No. The outcome is still the same. You will still know how it will end and I'll still be a step behind and at a disadvantage."

Crawford absently rubbed the blood from his hand onto his dark workout pants. The edge of the blade had stung his left hand.

"It's second nature to me to use my gifts and whatever else is available to me to get the job done."

Aya turned his back to Crawford to hide his face and went very still. He was silent for so long Crawford almost left him to brood and finish his own workout in the gym. While he watched, Aya took a few deep breaths and squared his shoulders. When he turned around his face was blank and unreadable.

"I guess you do what you have to." Aya said softly. "I'll have to remember that."

"I get the feeling we aren't talking about sparring anymore."

"We're not and I'm not up for more discussion. If we're done here I'm going to shower."

"Aya, about the other night..."

"It was a job." Aya cut him off mid-sentence. "I understand."

He returned to the house. Schuldig sat indolently crosswise in one of the terrace chairs with one leg draped over the back, nibbling pastries. Even distracted and upset Aya had to shake his head at the telepath. He knew for a fact Schuldig wasn't color blind, but anyone else would think so. Brilliant purple silk drawstring pants hung low on his hips and were topped by an electric green robe left untied over his bare chest. Most frightening of all were the fuzzy pink bunny slippers the telepath wore with as much panache as a pair of Ferragamo loafers. The worst case of bed hair imaginable was barely being contained by the yellow headband. Fiery orange strands stuck out at all angles giving the impression of a badly stuffed scarecrow. Even with a jumbo mug of coffee grafted to his right hand, eyes puffy from too little sleep, and pastry crumbs dotting his lips, Schuldig still oozed sexuality. Aya just didn't get it.

"Hey, not everyone can be me."

"Not everyone would want to, and stop peeking in my head." Aya retorted.

"Can't help it. I'm too tired and you were very loudly denigrating my fashion sense again." Schuldig shrugged his shoulders. "For someone who doesn't talk much, you think loud and clear, in stereo and technicolor. You're dreams are even more interesting."

"Shut up!" Aya vibrated with fury.

"Pull your claws in, kitty. It's just free cable for me. I won't tell, but take some advice from an experienced lover."

"Experienced slut, you mean."

"Whatever. Think what you like. I'm more discriminating than you want to believe. I've never paid for a damned thing, nor have I ever sold my body, so keep your judgments to yourself." There was real hurt in Schuldig's voice. "I've only ever sold my skills on the job, same as you. If that makes me a whore, it makes you one, too."

Apologies never came easy to Aya and they still didn't. He just gripped Schuldig's shoulder and let the telepath pick it from his mind. After a moment Schuldig shook himself free and laughed brightly.

"You can be eloquent as long as you don't have to speak. Gods, you're an odd one, Aya. But as I was saying, take my advice. If you want, then take."

Aya selected a croissant to take in the house with him. He didn't even bother to pretend ignorance of what Schuldig was talking about. What was the point when dealing with a telepath?

"It's not that easy for me. I'm not an open person." Aya moved on into the house for his shower.

"And if that isn't the understatement of the year." Schuldig muttered into his coffee and dismissed the matter from his mind to bask in the sun beaming through the glass enclosed terrace.

Let Aya and Crawford work out outdoors. Schuldig didn't care if the snow had melted and February approaching. It was still winter in New York and he dreamed of warmer places. Mmmm, maybe their next job could take them to the Bahamas or something. Schuldig dozed in the heat with visions of toned bodies in thongs dancing in his head.

Crawford watched the redhead walk steadily to the back terrace without looking back. He stared down at his creased palm and clenched his fist. A vision swept through his consciousness with the force of a hurricane. Disjointed images of Aya, his lips twisted in a rictus of pain, burned behind his eyes and frantic calls in Schuldig's voice urging him to 'hurry, hurry.' Before the last of the vision faded Crawford heard Aya's voice snarling at some unseen attacker that he would die first.

Crawford shakily regained his feet from where he had fallen to his knees and hurried to the house. He wished once again that his visions came with a time and date stamp in the corner. Crawford had no clue when the sordid details would come to pass or how to stop them. Fuck and double fuck! The sound of Crawford barreling through the door jolted Schuldig from his pleasant dreams.

"Where's Aya?" Crawford demanded.

"What? No 'Good Morning', snuggle bear?"

"Schuldig!"

"Gott, you're no fun. He's in the shower. Why don't you join him and you can both drown your sorrows. Better yet, pin him to the tiles. I know you want to."

Schuldig gave an inarticulate yell as Crawford dumped the remains of his coffee in his silk covered lap. 

"I'm only trying to help! Where's the love!" Schuldig yelled at his retreating back. "Stubborn, pig headed idiots."

In his hurry to find Aya safe in the house, Crawford discarded any pretenses of decorum and politeness and simply barged through Aya's bedroom door. The man in question stood in the middle of the room wearing only his pants and holding his shirt. He lifted one finely arched brow in question.

Using his unnatural speed Crawford grabbed Aya by the shoulders and spun him around to pin him against the wall. He cupped the fine-boned jaw in one hand and wrapped the other arm tightly around the slender waist. Aya dropped the shirt and laced both hands in Crawford's silver hair. Their lips crashed together in hungry passion, teeth clicking against each other almost painfully. Aya writhed between the unyielding surface of the wall and the equally hard body rubbing him in all the best places. After several long minutes he tugged at Crawford's hair to pull him away.

"Why?" Aya gasped.

"Tell you later." Crawford groaned and pushed the redhead toward the neatly made bed. "But this has nothing to do with a job."

Down in the kitchen a certain voyeuristic telepath lost all semblance of sleepiness and, humming a porn flick soundtrack, exchanged his coffee for popcorn and a large coke and lounged on the chaise in the living room with a huge smile.

"Scene One, Take One." Schuldig snickered. 


	8. Chapter 8

Crawford pushed Aya back to the bed until his calves bumped and the redhead sat down. Holding Aya's unflinching violet gaze, he pulled his sweatshirt over his head making his silver locks spill over his forehead. Aya reached with a pale hand to hover just above the darker skin exposed to him. His hand was close enough to feel the warmth but hesitated to touch.

"Crawford," He whispered.

"Brad." Crawford corrected. "If this is what you want, then I am Brad when we're not working." He loosened and dropped his pants and stood before Aya. "Do you want me, Aya?"

Aya's whole body shuddered from the throaty question. Instead of attempting words that always tangled in his throat, he skimmed his hands up Brad's sides to grasp his upper arms and pull the taller man over his body. Aya hissed at the feel of smooth skin sliding over his chest and belly. He touched the tip of his tongue to the hollow of Brad's throat and inhaled deeply. He could taste the slight tang of salty sweat overlaying the sandalwood of expensive soap and the musky, masculine flavor of the skin underneath. Gods, yes, he wanted this man and he wanted to hear that deep, purring voice fill his ears so that all his senses were swamped with pleasure thick and hot enough to melt some of the iciness in his murderer's heart. Aya licked a wet path up Crawford's neck to his ear to suck the lobe between his teeth. He thrilled to feel the trermbling reaction he produced. Yes, he could bring Crawford pleasure, too.

Crawford fisted a hand in crimson hair and pulled Aya's head back to slick his tongue over the full bottom lip. He could taste himself in the recesses of that sweet heat and it brought to life a deep and primal urge to imprint his lover with his taste and scent. Brad nipped at his lips and stroked his tongue while his other hand smoothed over taut muscle to dip beneath the waistband of Aya's pants and cup the heat beneath the fabric. Aya broke away with a gasp and stiffened slightly even as he tried to push himself into Brad's hand. Honey brown eyes narrowed at the nearly unnoticeable signs of fear and hesitation.

"You have done this before?" Brad asked.

"Yes." Purple eyes opened in confusion. What? This was not the time for a conversation. "A few times, when I was younger. I'm not inexperienced."

"You didn't really enjoy it." The statement was flat.

Aya raised himself up to his elbow and ran his palm the length of the older man's chest in supplication.

"I don't want to talk about the past. It's not important. I want this. I want you, Brad."

Brad wanted to strangle the nameless man or men who had bungled Aya's introduction to sex. His plans for vigorous and acrobatic fucking were going to have to be altered a bit. Brad stroked brilliant bangs back and smiled into lovely eyes that had begun to darken with uncertainty. Actually, it wasn't a disappointment at all. Twenty-four years old and Fujimiya Aya was almost a sexual tabula rasa. A blank slate with no learned responses, a gorgeous body of uncharted territory that Crawford could claim and mold to his desires. The thought made Brad painfully hard and he dropped his head with a groan into the crook of Aya's neck to nip and suck at the sensitive skin where the neck joined the shoulder.

"Will you trust me, Aya?"

Aya swallowed several times and still couldn't speak. It was more difficult for Aya to give his trust than to give his body and Crawford knew it. Years of being an assassin were screaming at him to get up and get out of this compromising situation. Placing your trust in someone made you vulnerable to them. He searched the brown eyes watching him intently and slowly nodded his head. Crawford's eyes gleamed brighter with satisfaction and lust and his smile was blinding. He kissed and stroked Aya into pliancy once more then uttered the words that make Aya freeze again.

"I want to cover your eyes." Aya squeezed his eyes shut reflexively and Crawford kissed each closed lid lightly. "I want you to only focus on my touch and my voice. I want to hear your responses. I know you well enough that will be easier for you if you can hide your eyes. I'll give that to you if you will give me your trust."

"All right." Aya croaked, then cleared his throat. "I trust you."

Crawford left the bed just long enough to find the sash of Aya's robe. He wrapped the silk over Aya's eyes and tied it at the temple. Then he drew his thumbs down Aya's cheeks and kissed his lips.

"Okay?"

"Y-Yes."

Crawford kissed his way down from the sweet spot on the pale neck to rough his tongue over a pale rose nipple. He tugged it between his teeth. Aya gasped sharply and tried to muffle the sound with his fist.

"No." Crawford encircled his wrist and pulled the fist away from Aya's mouth. "I want to hear you."

Twisting the abandoned nipple between his fingers, Crawford trailed his lips across to suck and bite at the other one. Slender fingers threaded through his hair as Aya arched his back and moaned deep in his throat. Crawford smiled against his skin. So sensitive! He moved lower pausing to swirl his tongue in the navel before hooking his thumbs in the loose pants to ease them down past smooth, lightly muscled thighs, shapely calves and fine-boned feet. Aya obliged, moving his hips in cooperation and letting loose soft sounds of pleasure.

"So beautiful," Brad muttered, taking in the vision of the toned pale figure, lying blinded and trusting beneath him. "Taste good," He observed after nibbling at the Achilles tendon and the thin skin behind Aya's knees.

The gasps and sighs of pleasure urged Brad to explore further, tasting all that warm, pale skin. He discovered that swirling his tongue in the hollows of the inside of Aya's wrists and elbows produced shivers and moans. Running his hands down Aya's flanks encouraged his legs to part so Brad could settle between his legs and rub their erections together. He gripped them both with one hand and pulled a few times to make Aya call his name in breathless want.

Brad knelt between Aya's legs and slid his arms under his thighs to part his legs and raise his knees. He tilted Aya's weight back until it rested on his shoulders and left his cock and puckered opening exposed, folding him in half and effectively pinning the smaller man. Aya's hand fluttered to the bed to grip handfuls of the covers.

"Brad." Aya's breathing hitched once but he remained relaxed, seemingly in no discomfort from the position.

"Trust me," Crawford purred. "Just let me bring you pleasure."

Brad kissed both inner thighs before swiping the flat of his tongue directly over Aya's opening. The effect was electric. Aya twisted and arched with a harsh shout, subsiding to moan over and over incoherently as Brad circled several times before shaping his tongue into a point to breach the ring of muscle and lap at the sensitive interior. Brad freed one hand to grip Aya's length and give stroking pulls, ending each stroke by swirling his thumb over the slit at the top. Brad felt Aya's inner muscles softening, his thighs trembling, and heard the cries shift to pleading tones. He lowered Aya's body to the bed and looked around the sparsely furnished room.

"Shhh,shhh," He soothed when Aya reached for him blindly in protest of the abandoned pleasure.

Ah, there. Brad spotted the jar of aloe gel Aya used on his fair skin as protection against the bitter winter wind. He discarded the lid and dipped his fingers in before laying atop Aya's body again to kiss his lips.

"Is it still good?" He murmured against Aya's lips.

"Yes, yes! Gods, Brad, don't stop now!"

Brad chuckled darkly and distracted Aya with a deep, hungry kiss while circling then slipping in the first gel-covered finger. Aya mewled into his mouth and writhed against him trying to get him deeper, get more sensation. Brad put in the second finger and started a scissoring, thrusting motion, finger fucking his lover while whispering in his seductive voice how tight, how beautiful, how desirable Aya was. He changed his angle a bit and brushed against the prostate, wringing a definite scream of pleasure from the redhead.

"Brad, please." Aya pleaded for completion.

Brad settled again between Aya's legs, placing his knees over his shoulders. Then he reached up and pulled the sash loose from his lover's eyes.

"Look at me, Aya." He commanded. "Tell me you want me."

Passion-wild purple eyes fastened on his face and pale, delicate hands reached for him. "I want you." Aya said hoarsely but firmly.

Satisfied, Brad rocked his hips forward and entered halfway in one smooth motion. Aya bit his lip and groaned low and deep. A retreat then another thrust, and Brad was seated to the hilt, hitting the prostate dead on and rocking their bodies together. Aya tossed his head on the rumpled comforter and tightened his legs around Brad's shoulders.

"Ah, ah, more!"

Brad grinned ferally and started thrusting deep and powerfully, scooting their bodies across the bed until Aya braced his hands against the headboard. He managed to get his hand between their bodies to stroke Aya's cock in time with his thrusts. It proved the end for Aya and he came with a strangled shout, spurting pearly streams of come over his chest to his chin. Brad thrust twice more before giving up his own seed with a satisfied yell and collapsed to his elbows to tremble over Aya's spent body. Brad kissed his lips, his temple, his eyes and licked the come from his chin.

"Sweet." He said softly and scooped some on his finger to smear over Aya's bottom lip to savor the flavors together with more kisses.

"Hn."

Aya lay boneless and sated. He smiled to himself that he now knew what a "Screaming Orgasm" was and, in his opinion, the drink was no comparison to Brad Crawford.

Crawford lifted himself from the bed with a grunt and brought a warm washcloth from Aya's bathroom to clean them.

"You okay?" He asked with a pleased smile.

"Yes. Thirsty."

"Me, too. I'll bring up some juice."

Crawford stepped into his pants and padded barefoot down the stairs. He saw Schuldig sprawled in the living room looking thoroughly debauched, his eyes glazed and popcorn all over the floor.

"Enjoy yourself, Schu?"

"Guh." Was the unintelligible response. Crawford quirked his eyebrow at the telepath and smirked to himself. Seems like he was just that damn good if it reduced the German motor mouth to single syllables. Crawford poured two glasses of juice and retraced his steps.

"And Schu?"

"Huh?"

Crawford nodded his head at the popcorn. "Clean up your mess."

Making his way back to Aya's room Crawford mused that the best part of daylight sex was the lack of an awkward 'Morning After'. Aya was wearing his robe and staring with a bemused expression at the mangled condition of his bed when Crawford reentered the room. He flushed only slightly as he accepted his glass of juice and made a determined effort not to hide his face. Aya wasn't submissive by any defnition but painfully shy. It had taken an immense amount of will power to allow Crawford to blindfold him. What Schuldig had said at the club was true. Lust addled the brain and made people incredibly stupid at times. And yet...Brad hadn't hurt him. Instead he had given Aya the most incredible experience of his life. HIs body ached and tingled in various places and sudden movements could send a bolt of pain straight up his spine, but Aya had the almost uncontrollable urge to plaster a huge cheshire cat grin on his face. Aya wanted to try the sex again, but this time he wanted to be the one to bring his lover to the torrid edge of the abyss.

With a sly, suggestive smile on his face, Aya took Crawford's hand and urged him to his feet.

"Brad," He said in his low, lovely voice. "I never did get my shower. Care to join me?"

Crawford let his own smile settle into place as Aya scooped up the aloe gel and preceded him into the bathroom.

"By all means," Crawford drawled. "Let's conserve water." 


	9. Chapter 9

Aya slashed his last opponent from left shoulder to right hip and jumped back from the spray of blood. Wiping his blade clean on the fine fabric of the corpse's suit he sheathed it and hung his head. The faint trembling and rising nausea that followed his kills these days shook his body. His head felt too large and ached fiercely from the intrusive mind link Schuldig created to keep Schwarz in contact during jobs. Aya was left with a blinding headache every time. The telepath had tried to explain that it would ease with familiarity, but until then, as long as Aya subconsciously fought, the headaches would come.

Schuldig was in the next office systematically scouring the brain of the intended target for more information. Their last few jobs had been assassinations of minor talents trying to ingratiate themselves with what was left of Esset and Rosenkreuz by shipping kidnapped children with varying degrees of talent overseas. Crawford had, of course, been correct when he said the remnants were looking to the West to regroup and rebuild. The small sound of a muffled shot announced that Schuldig had finished his prey.

Crawford left the office holstering his still warm gun, the telepath at his side glowing with an unholy glee over his latest mind rape. The destruction of anyone affiliated with Esset and Rosenkreuz was a special treat for Schuldig. Aya had learned some of Schwarz's history and understood the deeply held hatred for the institution. All of his information had come from Schuldig. Although they shared some fantastic sex, Crawford shared little personal history with Aya. It left the redhead feeling somewhat slighted. He had put his trust in Crawford but it apparently wasn't altogether reciprocated.

Crawford took in the lifeless body in the room and let his eyes trace Aya's body, assuring himself that the physical injuries to his teammate were minor. He knew from experience that the bleakness in Aya's eyes wouldn't fade for a couple of days.

"Let's go." Crawford straightened his tie and walked to the elevator.

"Crawford, did you find out the location of that last group of children?"

"They're not our problem, Abyssinian." Aya flinched at the coldness in Crawford's voice. "The job we were paid to do is done."

"Br..Crawford, they're just kids."

"What Rosenkreuz and Esset are doing is what concerns us. We aren't responsible for the mess they leave behind."

Aya's soft mouth that Crawford usually took great delight in exploring hardened into mulish stubbornness.

"You and Schuldig were once a couple of those snatched kids, Crawford."

Crawford glared angrily at his lover over the distance that separated them. Lovers or not, it was Crawford who led Schwarz. Aya had no business questioning his orders nor was it appropriate to be arguing with him in the middle of a crime scene. Schuldig looked on in amusement, rocking on the balls of his feet to the tune of whatever acid metal band he was currently playing in his head. The telepath did that as a distraction when the cacophony of dying screams from his kills threatened to singe his brain. Now, he turned down the volume in his mind to watch the battle of wills between his leader and his leader's lover. Neither seemed to be backing down from the challenge. Honey brown eyes clashed with violet in a deadly stare that belied the fact the two men had been the most intimate of couples for weeks. The tension escalated until Schuldig himself was twitching from the backlash of anger.

He stepped between the two combatants and burst out in self-preservation. "Crawford! I can implant the location in the head of the nearest authority. Whoever it is will just think it's a hunch."

Aya flicked his glance to Schuldig and silently voiced his gratitude then turned his eyes to beseech Crawford to take the suggestion. Crawford held his ground for a few tense moments.

"Be quick about it," Crawford spat in disgust. "But we are leaving now."

As one the men returned casually to the car parked a block away. Schuldig walked with his eyes half closed in concentration then nodded at Aya in silent confirmation that he had succeeded. Before opening the door to the backseat Aya caught Crawford by the arm.

"Thank you." He murmured.

Crawford shook off his touch irritably and rounded on his subordinate.

"Do not ever question my authority in the middle of a job again. You can argue beforehand or afterwards, but when we're working you will follow my orders without hesitation. That foolish little display of sentimentality could have gotten us killed while you delayed to be a humanitarian. If you ever compromise us again like that I will shoot you myself."

Aya climbed numbly into the backseat. The ride back to the house was chill with a heavy silence. Even Schuldig's normally garrulous personality was subdued. Aya left the car as soon as the garage door closed and, entering the security code of the inner door, disappeared up the back stairs to the second floor. Schuldig removed himself from Crawford's anger, mumbling something about a shower and the jacuzzi.

Crawford stood in the middle of the kitchen struggling to regain his composure. Fuck! He had just threatened to kill his lover. Crawford picked up a heavy crystal vase holding one of Aya's ikebana arrangements and, in an uncharacteristic display of violence, dashed it to the floor. He could still see the hurt and betrayal, the disillusionment in Aya's face. As far as Crawford was concerned there were lines that were not meant to be crossed. Aya had too blatantly stepped across tonight, attempting to drag personal issues into the professional aspect of their lives.

In his shower, Aya heard the crash of shattering glass but made no move to investigate. At the moment he just didn't care. Crawford was right. They were hired killers. There was no room in their lives and no clause in their job description for sentimentality, no place for love and undeserving of it anyway. Aya squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face into the water, telling himself that the only wetness on his face came from the shower. When he emerged, washed clean of blood, he crossed to his bedroom door and did something he hadn't done since moving into the Schwarz household. He locked it.

Aya thrashed to wakefulness with a muffled shriek. Nightmares again. Every failure in his life, both real and imagined, had come again to taunt him in his sleep. Heart still pounding furiously, Aya shivered at the chill clamminess of the sweat drying on his body. When the roaring in his ears subsided Aya felt the presence of another in the room. Without a sound he slipped a dagger from beneath his pillow.

"Easy, kitty, it's just me." The slightly nasal tenor flowed from the darkness of the room.

"Schuldig? What the hell are you doing in my room? I locked the damn door," Aya huffed and returned both dagger and sheath to its hiding place.

"Ja, locking your door in a household of assassins. Real effective." The sarcasm rubbed raw Aya's already bruised pride and tenuous grip on his emotions. It made his voice thin and petulant.

"So, why are you here?" He felt the mattress dip from the weight of another body sitting on the edge.

"Would you believe me if I said I could no longer control my lustful desire for your body?"

"No."

"Fine then. Our fearless leader sent me."

"Crawford sent you?"

"Yeah."

"To my bed in the middle of the night?"

Schuldig brushed a careless hand over Aya's hair.

"Did you take a blow to the head tonight?"

Aya switched on the bedside light, blinked twice, and shut it off quickly.

"What was that all about?" Schuldig asked, amused.

"I didn't want to be blinded. I wouldn't have believed anyone would ever dye silk that color. I'm surprised it doesn't give you nightmares."

Schuldig snorted, then laughed. "You know, Aya, when you decide to get out of the assassin business you should go work for 'Vogue' or 'GQ'. No, really, I'm serious. You've become such a fashion critic."

"Why are you really here, Schuldig?"

Schuldig lifted the other side of the blankets and snuggled up close before Aya could protest. It confused Aya that he didn't immediately shove the telepath in the floor. Since when did he feel comfortable with Schuldig?

"I told you. Crawford sent me." Schuldig sighed and managed to make himself sound much put upon and abused. "He knew your nightmares would be bad tonight."

"So?" Aya retorted, stung that his teammates thought he needed such coddling.

"So, I'm here to keep the bad things away." The way Schuldig said it gave the impression of comforting a child. The telepath picked up the thought and snickered. "Baby, I definitely don't think of you as a kid. It's human to need people once in a while."

"Why didn't he come himself?"

Schuldig arranged his long body around Aya like a security blanket. "You did lock your door."

"That didn't stop you," Aya murmured, starting to feel sleepy again, lulled by the warmth of the telepath's body and the inescapable comfort/safety/trust me being fed into his head.

"He can take a hint. Me, I love a challenge, plus I didn't threaten to kill you tonight. Crawford figures you wouldn't want him here right now."

"Hm," Aya hummed some noise of agreement, almost asleep from the hands stroking through his hair and down his back. Then those hands reached down to squeeze his backside. "Hey!" He yelped.

"Sorry, kitty." Schuldig chuckled. "Didn't want you to get the wrong idea that I was being all noble and shit. I wouldn't want it to get around and damage my image."

"Point taken. You're still a sex fiend who dresses in the dark."

"Sleep, Aya," Schuldig whispered and reinforced it with a mental command.

The telepath sighed in resignation and unwrapped himself from the man who was now in a deep, dreamless sleep. He patted his hardened member sympathetically and shot a dirty look at Crawford's closed door.

/You so owe me, you bastard./ Schuldig sent to Crawford, then went into his bathroom to take care of his 'little' problem before returning to his own bed.

Schuldig burrowed into the nest of pillows that covered his bed. He really needed to get himself a steady lover of his own and he really needed to introduce the concept of make up sex to two stubborn jack asses. Schuldig did not like being forced into the role of arbitrator. It was more responsibility than he wanted and it was really fucking with his world view, not to mention his beauty sleep. 


	10. Chapter 10

Schuldig stumbled into the kitchen yawning and trying vainly to smooth his wild mane into some sense of order. As untamable as the man himself, the orange locks flew in all directions, the shorter pieces doing a terrific job at defying gravity. Giving up on the hair, the telepath continued to the coffee pot, and, God bless programming, filled his gigantic mug from the full pot. Almost dunking his head in the mug Schuldig took his first life-saving swallows before his eyes fully opened and he looked at the pot again. Wait a minute. Given Crawford's bizarre compulsion to rise with the sun the pot should have been at least half empty by now. Maybe he had gotten over his pique and slipped into bed with Aya. Not that they ever slept together, Crawford always going back to the privacy of his own room.

Schuldig drank some more to jump start his intellect and cast his mind about the house. He couldn't, and never really had been able to, read Crawford, but he could feel his presence. Crawford wasn't in the house and Aya was still deeply asleep thanks to Schuldig's mental compulsion. Oops. He corrected that and knew his teammate would awake naturally very soon. In the hope of deflecting an Aya tantrum over daring to invade the sanctity of his bedroom the night before, Schuldig put water in the kettle and put it on to boil for tea. Next to Aya's teapot was a folded note. Without a second thought Schuldig opened it to read that Crawford had flown to Japan early that morning and would return in a few days. He had left instructions for the two redheads to stick together and stay out of trouble while he was gone. It was signed 'Crawford', not 'Brad', so fearless leader was still obviously pissed at his lover.

Such silliness, Schuldig mused. Crawford might have been angry enough over Aya questioning him to have threatened to shoot him yet he had still asked the telepath to be on hand when Aya woke from his nightmare. Oh yeah, the Oracle was one stone cold, bad ass all right. Schuldig chuckled to himself. Not that it had been a terrible chore. Schuldig liked to snuggle and the Abyssinian was as cuddly as any other cat when sleepy and warm. Actually, Schuldig had liked it very much and wondered if he would be able to get some more snuggles before Crawford returned.

The whistling kettle gave Schuldig an idea. He brewed a pot of tea for his prickly teammate and put pot and cup on a tray with the morning paper and a plate of toast. He added a small bud vase with a few stalks of crocus that Aya had been forcing. There, all done. Nothing but an innocent little peace offering but one sure to throw Aya off balance. As a further consideration Schuldig even covered his fluorescent yellow pajama bottoms that Aya had found so blinding with his favorite green robe.

"Rise and shine, lazybones!" He sang out as he opened Aya's door.

Aya at first mumbled a sleepy denial then shot into a sitting position.

"Schuldig! Is this invasion of my bedroom going to become a habit?"

"If you like." Schuldig purred in his best sultry voice.

"I don't like." Aya grated.

"You didn't seem to mind too much last night."

Aya flushed. "Last night was ah..there were.., there were extenuating circumstances."

"Have it your way, but if I go, the tea goes with me."

"You made me tea?" Aya smoothed his bed covers and peered at the telepath from beneath his bangs. "Who are you and what have you done with Schuldig?"

"Ha, ha. Your wit is truly inspiring this morning." Schuldig deposited the tray over Aya's legs and made himself at home on the end of the bed. He lay on his stomach with his ankles crossed in the air and propped his chin in his cupped palms.

Aya nearly smiled at Schuldig's antics and poured himself a cup of tea. As nonchalantly as possible he asked, "Crawford up?"

"Up and out of the country for a few days."

"Oh." Aya kept his expression carefully blank and sipped his tea, forgetting for the moment that a telepath was perched on the end of his bed.

/He left without even saying anything to me./

/If it's any consolation, he didn't wake me either. I found a note on the kitchen counter next to your teapot./ Schuldig sent and reached out to rub soothing circles on Aya's knee.

Aya jerked in surprise at having his unspoken thoughts answered. He frowned at the telepath and strengthened his shields but made no comment over Schuldig's hand on his knee. Aya buried any feelings of hurt deep and opened the paper. The headline on the front page caught his eye and he set his cup on its saucer with a clatter. Schuldig gasped at the wave of despair from Aya and gripped his own head as Aya closed his eyes tightly.

"Oh Gods," Aya whispered. "The children were found last night in a warehouse near the public docks by a watchman. They were all dead."

Schuldig, smothering in Aya's despair, crawled over the bed to envelope the limp and unresisting form in his arms.

"The bodies were in cargo containers with waybills to ship to Japan." Aya continued.

Schuldig rocked them both and whispered in Aya's hair. "I'm sorry, kitten. I tried."

The redheads took comfort from each other. It soothed Aya who was understandably now quite addicted to human touch and his calm reduced the echoing pain in Schu's head. Moving slowly and not thinking, Schuldig tilted up his teammate's head and pressed light kisses over his face before covering his lips in an age old benison of comfort. It felt wonderful! When Schuldig tried to deepen the kiss Aya stiffened and Schuldig reluctantly let him go. Aya's hair was soft and smelled wonderful and his body had felt so good against his own.

"Schu," Aya asked slowly. "Did Crawford say where he was going?"

Schuldig's blue eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "That fucking idiot!" He yelped. "Japan. He went to Japan."

Aya threw off the covers and grabbed the phone. Schuldig heard him booking two seats into Narita as his thoughts jumbled. What the hell was Crawford thinking? He had to have 'seen' something and kept it to himself. Surely Crawford wouldn't follow such a dangerous lead on his own unless he had foreseen some danger to the rest of his team. Schuldig cringed at the thought. If that was Crawford's reasoning, Aya wasn't going to like it one bit and he was sure there was no way he could convince Aya to stay in New York.

The phone slammed into the cradle and Aya started stripping off his sleeping clothes. Schuldig cocked an eyebrow and grinned until Aya caught sight of him.

"Stop ogling me and go get ready! We have a flight to catch in two hours," He snapped.

"Assuming we can find him, if Crawford doesn't shoot us on sight he's going to be very, very pissed." Schuldig warned. "You may not get back into his bed for a long time."

Aya's hands fumbled but he didn't even pause.

"That's the least of my worries, Schu. He has to be alive to spurn me. I don't care what gifts you both have. He'll get himself killed if he goes in alone. Get ready before I leave you here."

Schuldig sighed dramatically and went to his own bedroom to shower and change. His plans for seducing Aya had gone up in flames. Like the white knight he used to be, the Abyssinian was determined to charge in and fight at his lover's side. It could be romantic, he sighed, if he wasn't sure Crawford was going to kill both of them for disregarding orders. 


	11. Chapter 11

The flight to Narita was long and nightmarish. Aya was dragging with fatigue and his increasing worry for Crawford thrummed along his nerves. Adding to his discomfort was a certain telepath who had made lavish use of the liquor cart to quell the minds of the other passengers beating his brain. Although his super fast metabolism kept Schuldig from getting thoroughly smashed he managed to consume enough to make him sloppily sentimental. Most of the flight was spent with Schuldig hanging off Aya's body in some way and petting him gently while he telepathically related stories of Schwarz adventures in between assuring Aya that if Crawford ditched him he would be glad to take Aya as his lover. By the time the plane landed Aya swore to himself that he would never set foot on a plane with Schuldig again without first giving the man some serious tranquilizers, preferably the kind used by big game hunters.

Schuldig draped himself against Aya's back while they waited by the luggage carousel but retained enough presence of mind to obscure any knowledge of their weapons from airport security. A cab dropped them at the entrance of a nice hotel that Aya had a dim memory of being inexpensive but discreet. He booked two rooms and gratefully deposited the semi-conscious telepath on the bed in the first one.

"He's going to see it. He's probably already seen it. We are going to be so dead and it's all your fault for being so stubborn." Schuldig mumbled. "You be sure he knows I'm just an innocent bystander in all this."

"Crawford should have known before he even left how I would react," Aya grumbled and shoved the telepath further onto the bed. "And putting you and the word innocent in the same sentence almost makes me laugh."

Still under the influence of the alcohol, or maybe not, Schuldig planted a hot, vodka flavored kiss on Aya's mouth and asked to be tucked into bed. After yanking off the other man's shoes and pulling the covers over him, Aya staggered through the connecting door and all but collapsed on the nearest bed. A fleeting thought of ordering tea from room service crossed his mind before he collapsed into sleep.

An indeterminate time later insistent pounding on the room door roused Aya from his exhausted sleep. The door had no peephole so he set the chain and cautiously opened the door to find Brad Crawford standing in the corridor with murder in his eyes. Aya let Crawford in and was immediately slammed into the door with a hand at his throat.

"I just fucking knew you wouldn't follow orders,' Crawford grated out from between clenched teeth. His fingers flexed in clear threat. "Why didn't you stay in New York?"

Aya broke his hold and reversed their positions, pinning Crawford's hands to his sides.

"Because while Crawford gives orders, I couldn't let Brad, my lover, take on who knows what without me," He snarled, just as furious.

"You forget yourself, Abyssinian." Crawford said, coldly.

"I forget nothing, least of all how you convinced me that a real team takes care of its members." Aya let him go and stepped back a few paces. "Did you forget that or were you just manipulating me?"

Crawford straightened his suit jacket and smoothed the sleeves without answering. Aya watched him and drew his own conclusions from his lover's silence. He felt cold inside and obscurely hurt.

"Aya," Crawford said. "I came to Japan to bring back a new member for Schwarz."

"You're not answering my question."

Crawford crossed the room to turn Aya to face him. So close, Aya was forced to look up as Crawford was a few inches taller.

"I meant what I said which is why you and Schuldig should have stayed in New York. I foresaw the two of you in trouble, you especially."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"That's the catch-22 of knowing parts of the future. If I say anything I either bring it about or I change it. If I say nothing the same thing could happen." Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It looks like this time your reckless impulsiveness negates either choice I could have made. You're here now and whatever is going to happen will happen."

"I don't need protecting!" Aya stayed focused on the part that distressed him most.

Crawford forced Aya into a chair and stood over him.

"I lead Schwarz. I do what I think is best. It is not an insult to you. Learn the difference, Aya." Crawford glanced at his watch. "I have an appointment in one hour. Stay put until I return. Do not disobey my orders this time, Abyssinian. I will not tolerate it."

Crawford briefly cupped the side of Aya's face and traced a thumb over his bottom lip that was almost, but not quite, pursed in a pout. Aya would have been appalled if anyone even suggested he was capable of such. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch a bit, his hurt and anger diffusing.

"Brad," Aya murmured just before Crawford covered his lips in a kiss that unlike their previous kisses was harsh and demanding, dominating.

Aya gave himself up to the sensation that easily overwhelmed his doubts. As much as Crawford's cold manipulation and attitude when working chilled him, he craved the warmth of his touch. Aya melted into the kiss, surrendering, and tried not to see it as more manipulation. His pride revolted at the mere thought that he could be swayed so easily. Crawford must have felt the beginning resistance and drew back to hold Aya by the shoulders.

"Stop trying to complicate matters by confusing our professional and personal lives. I kissed you because I wanted to, not as bribery to do as I say." Crawford looked as if he wanted to say more but refrained. "Get some more sleep to counteract the jet lag. If something happens you'll need to be at your best. Wait for my return and tell Schuldig that I won't believe the innocent bystander excuse, but I won't kill him yet."

Crawford left, leaving Aya still wary and uncertain but aching with unfulfilled desire. Schuldig ghosted into the room and rubbed his hand down Aya's back in a caress.

"Considered yourself favored, Aya," Schuldig said with a serious expression. "Before we freed ourselves from Esset, Crawford would have either severely punished or eliminated someone who dared disobey."

Aya gave Schuldig no reply to that. He didn't really know what to say. Schuldig rubbed his back in silent understanding, and Aya mused that Crawford wasn't the only one who had changed. In the past Aya himself would never have let anyone touch him and every new insight into Schuldig's personality continually surprised him. Behind the garish clothes and obnoxious smirk was an intelligent, thoughtful man Aya had come to like a bit.

"Careful, Aya. You'll give me ideas if you keep thinking in such rosy fashion. Just because I'm not quite the bastard you thought I was doesn't mean I'm not selfish and self serving when I want to be." Schuldig had a touch of menace in his demeanor. "I want you too, kitty." Then his face shifted into a genuine smile. "Well, well, want to be monogamous, do you?"

"Must you know my every thought?" Aya moved away from Schuldig's hands.

"It's what I do." Schuldig shrugged. "I keep the team connected. Besides, it's better than Japanese television."

Aya paced between the two rooms until Schuldig grabbed him and forced him to sit. He put the phone in Aya's lap and picked up the remote for the television.

"Instead of pacing order some room service, Aya. You might as well eat if you're not going to sleep. Crawford will return sooner or later. We can eat and watch a movie. I'll pick a horror flick and you can hold me during the scary parts." Schuldig burst into laughter while scrolling through the movie selections. "Oh, look kitty, it's the American remake of 'Godzilla' with Japanese subtitles! I wonder if the voices will match the mouth movements."

Aya glared at the snickering German and purposely ordered a sushi platter with extra Wasabi. Schuldig mimed gagging then narrowed his eyes in concentration. Aya heard himself changing his order to include a burger and fries. Aya dropped the phone and tackled the telepath with enough momentum to send them both off the bed, ending wedged between the bed and the wall. Schuldig leered from his dominant position.

"Why, Aya, all you had to do was ask me."

"Get off!" Aya snarled and shoved.

"Give me five minutes."

"Schuldig!"

"Oh, all right. All right, but you jumped me. Remember that."

Schuldig hauled Aya up from the cramped space and mischievously ruffled his already disheveled hair. He easily dodged the swatting hands to pinch a pale cheek.

"One kiss from your snuggle bear and you're so playful!"

Aya huffed indignantly and stalked away from his teammate's wandering hands.

"I've changed my mind about you, Schu."

"Oh?" Schuldig grinned evilly. "Going to hop into bed?"

"I've decided I don't like you at all."

Schuldig feigned pained horror and clutched his chest before collapsing face down on the bed. Aya rolled his eyes and tugged at his own hair.

"Crawford better get back soon or I'll go insane" 


	12. Chapter 12

The burning pain in his shoulders brought Aya to consciousness. Deeply held instincts had him slitting open one eye. The unfamiliar surroundings and the realization he was hanging from his bound wrists sent adrenaline surging through his blood. He fought and won the urge to struggle, to even move and bring attention to himself. Where was he and what the hell had happened? Where was Schuldig? The last thing he remembered was the knock on the door announcing their room service order.

Oh, damn. Yeah. Their order had turned out not to be food but a team to capture them. Obviously there had been a talent involved as Schuldig had been caught unawares also. The fight had been embarrassingly brief and futile. Aya's head throbbed and he could still taste the remnants of chloroform at the back of his throat. He almost wished he could drop back into unconsciousness to escape the increasing pain in his shoulders and back. His toes dangled just above the floor.

Aya wondered what had happened to Schuldig until the door opened and a bound, gagged and blindfolded man was tossed in to land harshly on the floor. Blood stained the distinctive mane of orange hair. At least he was alive. Aya could see Schuldig's chest moving from beneath the veil of his lashes.

/Schuldig/

Aya tried to reach the telepath through the team link and received no answer. Somehow his teammate's ability was still being blocked or Schuldig was deeply unconscious.

"I know you're awake, deadhead. You can stop pretending." The mocking voice came from a man with midnight black hair that spilled down his back and blue eyes so pale as to be almost colorless.

Aya tried to jerk his head away when the man grabbed his face in a punishing grip to force eye contact. Like he was examining a rare specimen, the man turned Aya's face from side to side before drawing his hand back to smash a hard fist into Aya's cheekbone. The unknown man rained several more blows to his face, chest and abdomen drawing nothing more than a few grunts of pain. Cruel fingers twisted into red hair and the man hissed into his face, spraying him with spittle.

"Why does Schwarz have a 'normal' with them?"

Aya spit blood on the floor. "I guess I'm just special."

His sarcasm was rewarded with another blow to the gut right over the recently healed stab wound. The pain was enough to make Aya's head spin and his vision darken at the edges.

"Where are the rest of Schwarz? Where are Crawford, the telekinetic, and the madman?"

"I don't know."

A backhand to the face started blood streaming from Aya's nose and a knee to the groin had him retching helplessly.

"Wrong answer, but we can keep playing this game. Schuldig quit being fun when he quit moving, but it was enjoyable while it lasted. I owe him and Schwarz more than just a good beating."

/Schuldig, wake up/ Aya screamed as loudly as he could in his mind. The telepath moved slightly and Aya heard something very faintly. /We are in some serious shit here! Wake up, damn it/

"It would be a waste to mess up such a pretty face." Mystery man with a grudge commented. Aya could almost see the man's mind working as he switched tactics. "I would prefer to do other things to such a sweet mouth and body instead of breaking it."

Aya couldn't help the shudder of revulsion when the black haired man licked a path from his jaw to his ear.

"So," the man purred in satisfaction. "That gets to you where pain doesn't. Nice to know. Let's see how much you can take before you sing for me, pretty bird."

The shackles on his ankles prevented Aya from kicking out at the man who ran exploring hands over his body and under his shirt to feel the skin hidden from his eyes.

/Wake up, you tasteless, color-blind, fashion victim or I swear I'll kill you/

/Wha/

Aya squirmed as much as he was able as his shirt was ripped in two and hands descended to the fly of his pants.

"Don't fight me, pretty one, and I'll make your death quick and painless. I have no grudge against you except for the poor company you keep."

"I'd rather just die first." Aya bit out and tried to head butt his tormentor.

The black haired man trapped Aya's head in his hands and bit viciously into his lower lip. Aya gritted his teeth and held perfectly still. He could finally hear Schuldig whispering in his head that help was coming, to just hang on a little longer. When his lip was released he flicked his tongue out to test the cut and tried to distract his assailant.

"Why do you hate Schwarz?"

"Why, pretty one? They destroyed my home, killed my mentor and took away my livelihood. Just the simple fact they exist at all is enough reason for them to die." The man stomped around the room in his rage, pausing to kick at the bound figure on the floor. "We were supposed to be the next step, the masters of you pitiful normal humans! Schwarz killed the elders and helped bring down the academy. All those years of work for nothing! Nothing!"

Aya chuckled, bringing the enraged man's attention back to him. He parted his lips to smile with blood-stained teeth. Behind the man's back the door opened silently.

"I'm glad, you bastard, because you are one fucked up excuse for a human being, superhuman or otherwise."

The black-haired man charged forward and squeezed Aya's throat. As his vision dimmed Aya saw Crawford enter the room and raise his gun. His captor was too blinded by rage to notice. A single shot to the head and Aya was finally able to drag in deep breaths of air. Crawford stepped over the body and holstered his gun in one smooth move. He sighed and bent down to untie Schuldig.

"See now why you should have stayed in New York?" Crawford directed the words over his shoulder.

Aya was starting to feel the punishment his body had taken as the adrenaline drained. His head bobbed with exhaustion .

"At least you didn't stoop to saying 'I told you so.'" Aya rasped.

Crawford assisted a groggy Schuldig to his feet and turned his hard, amber gaze on Aya. He spoke to the man standing in the shadows.

"Cut him down so we can get out of here. I would have preferred you met your teammates in a better fashion, but, as they say, shit happens."

Aya raised his head and his jaw dropped in astonishment when he saw who was cutting through the ropes binding his wrists.

"Yohji!" 


	13. Chapter 13

Crawford had booked them into a two-bedroom suite in another hotel. In the adjoining suite Yohji was cleaning and dressing Schuldig's various injuries. The black haired man, Franz Boehler had been his name, had been vindictive and the telepath would be blooming with multiple shades of bruising in a few days. His telepathy didn't appear to be damaged.

In the bath of the other suite Crawford professionally and impersonally examined Aya and found bruised ribs in addition to the cuts on his face and wrists. Aya kept his mouth shut and his eyes on Crawford's cool expression.

"I tried to spare you this."

"Sometimes I think I hate you." Aya slapped his hands away and made an attempt to leave the bathroom.

Crawford drew a bottle of pain killers from his toiletries bag and shook them in Aya's face. "Do you really hate me?"

Aya dropped his angry defensiveness enough to accept two pills. "Maybe not as much."

Crawford put away his first aid kit. Aya waved off the hand offered to assist him and stood on his own to weave on unsteady feet back to the main room. The aroma of real Japanese tea led him to the table. Crawford followed and poured for them both.

"You have questions." It was a statement.

"Tell me about Yohji." Aya said and sipped his tea.

Crawford leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. He looked as handsome and pristine as ever, whereas Aya felt and looked like he had been dragged face first over gravel. The difference irritated the red head since it only emphasized Crawford's earlier comments.

"I'll keep things brief. If he chooses to enlighten you further he may do so. In short, Yohji, like you, was targeted for extermination. It didn't matter that he longer remembered his time with Weiss. Weiss is not forgotten by some people who want them gone. Instead of getting killed, Yohji saw his wife shot down before his eyes. The trauma of losing Asuka yet again was enough to restore his memory."

Crawford paused. Aya concealed his expression with one hand and shakily set his tea down.

"Poor Yohji. None of us can ever escape it, can we? We can never have normal lives."

"That depends on your definition of normal, Aya. If you mean lucrative, successful and satisfying, then we can have very normal lives. Your life is what you choose it to be. It's all relative to how you look at it. Personally, I wouldn't choose to be any different."

"Now, you mean. You weren't too happy under Esset's command."

Crawford inclined his head and raised his cup in a hint of a toast to Aya. "Now. I succeeded in my goal. Schwarz is no longer the dog of Esset."

"Ch'" Aya shook his head at Crawford's obvious pride. "What of Yohji, now?"

"Yohji naturally wants revenge for his wife's death. He won't work for Krittiker. He blames Persia for Asuka's death for not protecting her."

"So you just decided to ask him to join Schwarz?"

"No. I 'saw' him joining Schwarz and we benefit from his inclusion."

Aya allowed himself to slouch in his chair to ease his back and shoulders. The pain killers were just starting to dull the sharp, burning pains. Only in Crawford's company would he indulge himself.

"Does Yohji benefit as well?"

Crawford curled his lips in a small smile. "How much Yohji benefits will be entirely up to him."

"You're being cryptic again. I see why you make Schuldig crazy with it." Aya's glare was mild and his body sagged further in the chair.

"You need some rest." Crawford observed.

"I'm fine." Aya countered. "So Yohji joins Schwarz. Does he trust you?"

"No, but he trusts you."

That made Aya's head hurt and his chest felt squeezed. Yohji trusted him and would follow Aya into Schwarz when Aya still didn't understand his own motives. He curled forward over his knees and fought the urge to retch.

"Stop that." Crawford's voice was a cool command. "There is no reason for this doubt."

"You would say that. You see the future."

"I see possible futures."

"Whatever. The rest of us can only guess and stumble and try to go on."

"Aya." Crawford loosened his stance from leader to lover and pulled Aya from his crouch to lean against his body.

"Don't." Aya tried to push him away. "I need a shower. I still feel that bastard's hands on me."

That made Crawford's eyes glint dangerously. He shifted his embrace to an arm around Aya's shoulders and guided him to the bath.

"Then a shower you'll have. I'd offer my assistance if I didn't know you would take it as an insult. I'm going to check on Schuldig and Yohji. I'll be back."

Aya nodded and stripped the remnants of his stained clothing. He stepped into the shower and wrenched the knob to full hot, letting the nearly scalding water wash over his skin. He scrubbed fiercely with a loofa and an entire bar of soap and still felt soiled. Although Aya hadn't actually been violated the humiliating knowledge that he could have been and unable to stop it left him ashamed and feeling filthy. As he lathered his body over again the humiliation slowly gave way to a bitter, killing rage towards himself. Aya had needed rescuing, again, by Crawford. He vowed silently that it would never happen again.

Crawford knocked on the door to the adjoining suite then just walked inside. Schuldig lay shirtless on the bed on his stomach with a beatific smile on his face. His torso was already turning several lovely shades. Yohji sat in the chair by the bed, smoking and drawing a brush through Schuldig's damp hair. Yohji looked amused by his task and a little like he couldn't believe he was doing it. Crawford only raised an eyebrow, pretty sure that Schu had 'suggested' it.

"Looks like everything is okay in here."

"Ja." Schuldig sighed. Yohji merely shrugged.

"Aya's okay?"

"A little battered. I'm taking care of him." Crawford answered Yohji. Yohji caught the underlying meaning and frowned as he contemplated that. "Don't let Schuldig make you pet him all night. We have an early flight back to the States in the morning."

"What!" Yohji dropped the brush and rose to his feet. "But what about my revenge?"

"You're trail is cold, Kudou. Don't try to deny it. You'll be more productive when we're home. You may not be a hacker, but I know you can use a computer more than competently. You'll have your revenge."

Crawford closed the door and Yohji stared holes through it.

"Officious bastard."

"He is." Schuldig tugged at Yohji's sleeve and stretched like a cat. "Brush my hair some more?"

"You're a real piece of work." Memories restored, Yohji distrusted Schuldig, but he would trust Aya. If Aya was with Schwarz Yohji would hold his judgement for now.

"I am. Brush my hair." Schuldig grinned pleadingly and waggled his fingers to coax Yohji closer.

Yohji snorted at the display and resumed his brushing. Hell, he didn't have anything better to do except brood and, as long as he brushed, the verbose telepath kept his mouth shut and didn't bother him.

"I heard that." Schuldig pouted.

"You were supposed to. Now shut up or I stop brushing."

Crawford found Aya sleeping. He gave one look towards the second bed and removed his clothes to spoon behind Aya. Aya startled until he heard Crawford's voice shushing him. Crawford gathered him close to sleep for the first time and tried to compose himself for rest. Boehler had touched and hurt what was his. Too bad he couldn't kill Boehler again and make it last longer. Crawford bared his teeth to the darkness in a shark like grin. Boehler was dead, but he had associates. Schwarz would hunt them. Crawford inhaled his lover's clean scent. Oh, yes, he wouldn't change his life. Sometimes it was just too damn satisfying to be him. 


	14. Chapter 14

Waking up next to Crawford was a surprise, one that Aya found pleasing. At the house in New York they never slept in the same bed, one or the other always returning to their own room. Aya rolled over to watch Crawford sleep. His lover's face was relaxed and looked younger and softer, more approachable. Aya reach out a hand to stroke back a wayward silver lock of hair to feel its silkiness. Golden honey eyes opened to focus sleepily on his face. Crawford smiled and let loose his hold on the gun under his pillow to pull Aya over onto his body to sprawl over his chest. He lightly traced with his forefinger the swollen bruising on Aya's cheek and the puffy cut on his bottom lip.

"For this alone I would have killed him." Crawford said and raised his head to lap at the abused lip.

Aya felt the stirrings of desire and moved fully atop Crawford to rub their morning erections together. The delightful friction felt too good and he leaned down to claim a kiss. The slight stinging of his cut lip only made the resulting heat from the kiss all the sweeter. There was no established pattern to their sex, either one content to be bottom or top, but this morning Crawford rolled Aya beneath him and settled between his thighs. He spent a long time kissing and stroking Aya's face, paying special attention to the abused areas as if to erase the other man's marks.

As was his habit, Crawford played Aya's body until his lover gave voice to his pleasure and murmured approval and encouragement in his ears with each gasp or moan. Fingertips danced, stroked and pinched in random succession until Aya was writhing with need and shaking with passion. The sex was unhurried and drawn out, a reaffirmation of life and mutual claiming. Aya came with Crawford's given name on his lips and Crawford followed quickly growling, "Mine."

After leisurely showering together, Crawford rapped on the door of the other suite then opened it to reveal their other two teammates still sacked out in their respective beds. He tersely informed the sleepyheads to get moving or they would miss breakfast and be hungry on the flight home. The blonde and the redhead grumbled and mumbled so similarly that Aya suppressed a smile.

Right before boarding Crawford pressed two pills into Schuldig's hand with a bottle of water. Minutes after they were seated in First class Schuldig was asleep with his orange head on Yohji's shoulder. The blonde looked torn between amusement and annoyance, but didn't shove him off. He even smoothed a blanket over the telepath.

"What was that you gave Schuldig?" Aya asked Crawford.

"Something Esset scientists cooked up for the stronger telepaths and empaths for travel. It makes Valium look like candy."

Aya wanted to lean against Crawford to nap and sustain the warm feeling from the mornings activities, but Crawford opened his laptop and there was no sign of Brad in his intense expression as he worked. Aya settled for headphones on his ears and checked the in flight movie. Just his luck. It was "Godzilla". He wished he had bought a book at the stand in the airport. Almost as if he were the telepath, Crawford reached into his briefcase and handed Aya a book of English poetry. He returned to his work without even a fleeting smile for his lover. 

Eighteen mind numbing hours later and their car was pulling into the garage of the big house. Yohji looked at his surroundings with great interest while assisting Schuldig. The telepath was still groggy from his drug induced sleep. Aya opened the door to his bedroom and set his and Yohji's baggage inside.

"You can use my room, Yohji, until yours is furnished." Aya offered.

Yohji frowned. "I don't want to put you out. Where will you sleep?"

Aya couldn't control the self-conscious blush but he met Yohji's eyes squarely.

"I'll sleep with Brad."

So that's the way it was then. Crawford and Aya were lovers. Yohji wanted to question Aya about this, but was just not that interested at the present. Aya gathered some clean clothes and a few items from his bathroom. He hesitated for an indecisive moment before laying a hand on Yohji's shoulder to give a compassionate squeeze. Yohji's look of astonishment pinched Aya's heart. Had he really been so selfish to his teammates before that he never offered his support? Perhaps, but Yohji was here now and Aya wanted to help his friend.

"Get some rest, Yohji. I'll see you in the morning and we'll talk."

"Yes, we will." Yohji's tone was harsh and Aya winced internally. He knew Yohji wanted to talk about the revelation of his love life and choice of lover. Yohji closed the door quietly.

Tired but too restless to sleep, Aya padded down the hall to glance into Schuldig's room. The telepath lay in an ungraceful sprawl on top of the covers of the most decadent bed Aya had ever seen. He shook his head in amusement and undressed the other man before rolling him around to get him under the silk sheets. Schuldig frowned in his sleep until Aya bunched a pillow under one of his arms then he settled again with a relaxed smile. Aya brushed his hand over flaming orange hair then he retreated in embarrassment. Twice in less than a week he had tucked a fully grown man into bed like a child. Silly, really, but Aya would never admit to himself that he gained some satisfaction in giving Schuldig the care that Crawford would brush off as foolish sentimentality. Somehow Schuldig had, with his arrogant personality and bright, garish presence coupled with his persistence, wormed his way past Aya's shields to earn the regard of the reserved Abyssinian.

Schuldig had been as responsible as Crawford for drawing Aya from his lonely shell. Aya only hoped that Yohji would find some peace as well. He had learned well that vengeance alone made for cold companionship. Feeling the need for his lover's presence, Aya stepped through Crawford's open door. Crawford put down the book he was reading to smirk in amusement.

"All good little boys tucked into bed for the night?"

Crawford seemed to be in a playful mood, but their was an edge to his words that prickled the nape of Aya's neck. Apparently Aya still wasn't forgiven for not following orders.

"I can stay with Schuldig if this is an inconvenience for you," Aya offered.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Crawford snapped. "Your place is not in Schuldig's bed."

"My place," Aya drawled the word. It tasted bitter on his tongue. "Tell me, Crawford, where is exactly my place.?" The warmth they had shared that morning was replaced by a chill defensiveness on both sides.

Crawford glared at him. "Now is not the time for this, Aya"

"You've said that before. When will be the time?"

Crawford set his glasses on the table with his book and turned out the lamp on his side. "When you come to terms with the fact that I am your leader, the Oracle of Schwarz before I am Brad, your lover. I will always choose the welfare of the team over the desires of just one member, even if that person is the one I take to bed."

Aya undressed in silence and slipped on a pair of loose cotton pants before rounding the bed to lift the covers of the other side. They lay with their backs to each other and at least four feet of space separating them. Much the same as Schuldig had, Aya tucked a pillow against his chest and attempted to sleep. Aya wanted Crawford to turn over and move closer. He knew it wouldn't happen and damned if he would do it himself. He was no child wanting reassurance or a doormat of a girlfriend wanting to ingratiate herself by offering her body to mollify a miffed boyfriend. Aya's last thought before falling asleep was if Crawford really thought of himself as two different people or just presented the cold, calculating Oracle personality as a shield for the softer, Brad part of his persona that was merely human. 


	15. Chapter 15

Aya woke when Crawford was in the process of disentangling himself from his lover's body. Apparently Aya had migrated across the bed during the night to nestle against Crawford's warmth. Biting back a groan as he steeled himself against censure, Aya nearly jumped when Crawford merely trailed his fingers softly over Aya's cheek before heading for the shower to start his day.

"I'll being working in my office most of the day," Crawford called over his shoulder. "There's a pile of mail and messages concerning work to be handled. I trust you and Schuldig to take care of settling Kudou."

Aya puffed out his cheeks on an annoyed exhalation. It seemed Crawford was going to go about business as usual with no reference to last night's argument. Aya dropped his head into the pillow that smelled faintly of Crawford's cologne and breathed deeply before rising from the bed. He pulled on the pieces of an exercise outfit and soft soled shoes, intending to work out before breakfast and a shower.

The kitchen welcomed him with the tempting scent of fresh brewed coffee. Crawford must have set the timer the night before. Aya ignored it in favor of his tea kettle until the lingering fatigue in his body and the prospect of talking to Yohji made him put down the empty kettle and pour the dark brew into a thick mug. He pulled down a couple of mugs for Crawford and Yohji and unearthed Schuldig's bird bath sized cup from the dishwasher. Aya shook his head in amusement. In the months he had been with Schwarz Aya had learned that Schuldig was a danger both to himself and others until he had consumed massive amounts of caffeine in the morning.

Aya sipped his coffee and peered out the window where the grayness of early morning was just starting to lighten. Not going to brighten up by much, Aya mused. A steady rain was pelting the ground. Aya recalled that Spring in the United States was graced with lots of rain. He sighed, disappointed. His workout would be confined to the indoor gym unless he wanted to get soaked. Aya took a cup of coffee up to Crawford's office and retrieved his katana. Crawford looked up briefly from his laptop to acknowledge the offering with a nod.

"Thank you," Crawford took his first drink and closed his eyes in satisfaction. "I'll see you later."

Aya curled his lip at the decidedly pointed dismissal and whipped around to stalk downstairs. He was greeted by being enveloped from behind by green silk covered arms and flying orange hair. Schuldig molded to his back and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"You tucked me in again, kitten?" Schuldig purred in his ear. 

"What makes you think it was me?" Aya continued to the kitchen, the telepath clinging like a limpet to his body.

Schuldig snorted inelegantly. "Oh, please, Aya. Yohji was as wiped as I was and Crawford would have considered just dumping me in my room as good enough."

Aya held up Schuldig's huge cup and used it to entice the man into releasing his hold on his body. "I was just being considerate. I'm practicing my weakest skills," He said wryly.

"Feel free to practice any skills you want to on me. I'll always be a willing guinea pig for you, babe."

Aya rolled his eyes at the innuendo.

"I'm going to do my katas. Just let Yohji sleep until he wakes. Crawford's orders for today are to settle Yohji and furnish a room for him."

"Oooh, shopping!" Schuldig's eyes sparkled with the thrill of spending, then they darkened in concern as he picked up on the stray thoughts of Aya's discontent with Crawford. "Fearless leader being a prick?"

Aya's lips compressed into a straight line and his face smoothed to blankness. "Nothing to concern you, Schu. It's personal."

"The happiness of my friend concerns me, kitten." Schuldig frowned in perfect seriousness.

Aya almost snapped at Schuldig to butt out before he caught himself, remembering all the times he had refused overtures from the members of Weiss and the hurt he had caused them. Aya reminded himself that he had resolved to be more open.

"Thank you," He said instead and squeezed the telepath's shoulder. "It's something we have to work out between ourselves, but I appreciate your concern."

"My door and my arms are open to you at all times."

"You're incorrigible."

"You wouldn't have me any other way." Schuldig snickered and returned his attention to his gallon of coffee.

"I'm going to work out."

"You do that, Oh obsessive compulsive one, and I'll wait for sunshine to wake up."

"Behave, Schuldig. You know what Yohji's been through recently."

"Hey! I can be sensitive and gentle when needed," Schuldig bristled.

"Yes, but you're as subtle as a brick in the face," Aya retorted.

"Go sweat or something. It's my turn to make breakfast and I want pastries. You want to watch that girlish figure of yours."

Aya left his infuriating teammate to diving in his coffee bath and took his katana to the gym. He didn't hear Yohji slipping down the back stairs to the kitchen. Schuldig, having known he was there the whole time, turned his head in Yohji's direction.

"Quit lurking, Kudou, and come join me."

The blonde assassin cautiously eased into the room and took the cup Schuldig offered him.

"That was certainly entertaining. Aya has changed a lot, hasn't he?" Yohji stared into the darkness of his mug.

"For the better, I'd say," Schuldig said. "We befriended him, not subverted him, Kudou. Don't forget I can hear your thoughts." Schuldig smirked when Yohji jerked in surprise, sloshing his coffee.

"And Crawford is his 'friend'," Yohji said, sarcastically.

"Crawford is his lover, and like Aya said, that is between the two of them." Schuldig cocked his head at Yohji and pierced him with his bright, blue eyes. "He grieved for you, you know. He still has terrible nightmares about not being able to save you when the academy was destroyed."

"He did?" Yohji frowned, his thoughts derailed.

"Yes, he did, Kudou. Aya didn't know you had survived. Persia didn't let him know."

"Persia!" Yohji spit the name in disgust. He took a deep swallow of his coffee to wash away the bitterness.

"We can help you, Yohji. We're already getting closer to finding out who targeted Aya. You'll have your revenge, Kudou, and you'll have something to build on and live for when it's over if you want it. It will be up to you, Yohji. We made Aya the same offer and even he admits that he is better for it. He even smiles now and it's a lovely thing to see."

Yohji narrowed his eyes in speculation at Schuldig. His ingrained skills he used as a P. I. tingled. "You love him, don't you?"

"Feh, you admit the Mastermind is capable of deep feelings?" Schuldig averted his eyes and deflected the question.

Yohji shrugged and let it go.

"Any other questions before I whip up breakfast and offend both Crawford and Aya with sugar loaded coffee cake?"

Yohji lit a cigarette and smirked through the smoke. "Yeah, what's up with the bunny slippers?"

Schuldig plucked the cigarette from Yohji's lips and took a deep drag. "I never knew Weiss was so fashion conscious." He put the cigarette back between Yohji's lips and opened cabinets and the refrigerator to gather the ingredients for strudel, leaving Yohji to drink coffee and mull over their conversation.

As predicted, Aya sniffed in disdain at the hot pastry and choose fruit for his breakfast. Schuldig braved Crawford's wrath long enough to invade the sanctity of his office and leave a plate on the desk. After showering the other three men took Schuldig's bright, red sports car to the nearest mall. Yohji insisted on the shotgun seat so he could see everything.

The blonde and the redheaded telepath bonded over the shopping outlet. Aya trailed behind the two, amused and indulgent of his two companions. He personally had no interest in shopping but he was glad to see Schuldig making an effort to resurrect Yohji's personality. It disturbed Aya greatly to see the dark emptiness in Yohji's eyes.

Their first stop was a bed and bath store. Schuldig guided Yohji towards a huge cherry sleigh bed. Aya thought the bed overly ostentatious, but Schuldig shushed him, pronouncing the bed perfect.

"The head and foot boards provide excellent leverage." Aya and even Yohji blushed at the telepath's implications. Schuldig went on to extoll the beauty of the wood and the fantastic wardrobe and tables that completed the set.

Yohji threw up his hands in capitulation and made arrangements to have the bedroom set delivered to the house later that day. On a roll now, Schuldig dragged the other two from store to store, insisting that Yohji needed a complete new wardrobe to replace what he had left in Japan. Aya eventually begged off to be left in a bookstore while the blonde and the redhead went to Hot Topic to find Yohji some leathers for working and some club gear as Schuldig insisted that Yohji simply had to get out to enjoy the night life of New York. He scathingly revealed that Crawford and Aya only ventured to a club if it involved a job. 

Yohji and Schuldig, flushed and laden with bags, returned to get Aya. After they dumped the bags in the car Schuldig insisted they try a German restaurant he had discovered.

"Not as good as the real thing," He said. "But a passable eatery with good beer on tap."

Yohji and Schuldig ordered steins of beer. Aya, not liking the taste of beer, was at a loss until he remembered his night out with Crawford and Schuldig. He had the satisfaction of watching Yohji's jaw drop when he order a 'Screaming Orgasm'. They had a slightly tipsy lunch then returned to the car for the trip to the house. Yohji kept turning around in his seat to regard Aya until the swordsman squirmed.

"So, Aya, how come you never let on that you were gay?" Yohji asked with a grin.

"I'm not gay!" Aya hissed. "What makes you say that?"

"Well," Yohji drawled. "Having sex with another man tends to be a dead giveaway."

"Just because I have a male lover does not make me gay!" Aya shouted, incensed. "This topic is not up for discussion, Yohji. Crawford is only the second lover I have ever had. I distinctly remember a time when you followed and bedded any attractive thing on two legs, male or female. You have no right to judge me!"

"Aya, Aya, cool down," Yohji soothed. "I'm not judging you. I'm just curious why you chose Crawford."

Schuldig was conspicuously silent, listening intently to see what Aya would reveal after having had a few drinks.

"Are you blind!" Aya exploded. "You can't tell me that he doesn't look like pure sex dressed in Armani. And his kisses, Yohji. Damn. I could almost come from his kisses. In his arms I feel safe and wanted and desired. He wants me and I like it." Aya covered his eyes and leaned into the cushions of the back seat. Maybe that last drink hadn't been such a good idea. He seemed to have lost all control of his mouth. "I just hate it, hate it when he pulls rank on me and makes me feel stupid and incompetent. I'm not, you know. I'm a trained assassin."

"Of course not, kitten," Schuldig said from the front seat. "Maybe if you told Brad this instead of us you would feel better." He smiled with unconcealed glee at the thought of the ensuing fireworks. "We'll be home in five minutes."

Yohji eyed the telepath dubiously.

/Trust me, Yohji. They need to work this out before it implodes./ Schuldig sent straight to Yohji's mind.

Yohji sent back a burst of skepticism, but it was too late to intervene. They had reached the house and Crawford was waiting in the door that opened from the garage into the house. Aya left Yohji and Schuldig to handle their bags and marched right up to Crawford to get in his face. Crawford took in the flushed cheeks and light of battle in the glowing orchid eyes of his lover and turned a speculating eye on the remainder of his team.

"We have a job, but I foresaw the need to postpone it until tomorrow night."

"That's good," Aya slurred slightly. "You and I need to have a discussion, Brad." He emphasized Crawford's first name. He snagged Crawford's tie and used it like a leash to tug him up the back stairs to the second level. "But first I want you to fuck me." Aya loudly whispered, thinking he was being discreet.

Loud, nasal laughter and a deeper matching sound erupted from the first floor. Aya plastered himself to Crawford's body, heedless of the rapt audience listening in the kitchen. He nipped and sucked all the skin he could reach and ground himself suggestively against his lover's hard body.

"Unless you're into exhibitionism, Aya, I suggest we take this to my room," Crawford managed to gasp out between kisses.

Aya gave a pickled version of his usual glare and followed Crawford to the bedroom. "No," He stated, quite clearly. "You are mine. No one else gets to see."

Crawford chuckled at his lover's tipsy possessiveness and fisted his hands in crimson hair to take control of the kisses.

"I want you anyway, but you are a true delight with a few drinks in you, Fujimiya."

"Do I amuse you?" Purple eyes burned hot with wrath. The effect was ruined when they crossed briefly.

Crawford's lips twitched with the effort in keeping a straight face. Liquor or not, Aya saw the smile behind the mask. He stood on tiptoe to get nose to nose with Crawford.

"You," Aya said, "are a complete and utter bastard."

"And?" Crawford murmured the word against Aya's lips.

"Half the time I want to run my katana through your chest," Aya hissed through clenched teeth.

"You do?" Crawford turned the redhead's face to bite down on his ear lobe. A shiver passed through Aya's body. "The rest of the time?"

"I want to throw you face down on the bed and make you beg for me."

"That will never happen."

Aya reached behind Crawford to lock the bedroom door. He smiled in a way that made Crawford's blood run hot and fast in response to the unspoken challenge.

"You said you only saw possible futures, Brad." Aya unbuttoned Crawford's shirt to get to his chest. "Relax that control a little and don't look ahead. Let's just see what happens then. I refuse to let you bring your anal retentive attitude to bed."

"Your 'sweet talking' could use some work."

"You're a control freak." Aya retorted, sobering quickly. "Show me you can be spontaneous."

Crawford cupped Aya's face in his hands and let his mouth curve into a full, genuine smile. "This from the Abyssinian."

Aya pressed a kiss into Crawford's palm. "I've changed. So can you." He was unaware that his eyes conveyed his emotions. Need and heat and desire swirled openly in their purple depths.

"Brad," Aya whispered to his lover and reached for him with a kiss that contained all the feeling he didn't put into words.

Crawford's iron will faltered under the assault of the hot hands and mouth of the fey creature demanding his surrender.

"Bed. Now." Aya ordered and stripped his lover of both clothes and emotional armor in seconds.

Schuldig pulled Yohji into the kitchen and shoved a bowl and bottles of beer in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Yohji asked the telepath.

Schuldig placed a hand against Yohji's cheek to make it easier to establish a link to his mind before tossing a bag in the microwave and setting the timer. Yohji's curiosity and interest were tweaked by the high color in Schu's face and the anticipatory smirk on his face. Yohji admitted as privately as possible that Schuldig was a fascinating person, bright and lively, not quite the malicious killer he thought he remembered. Let's not forget pretty damned hot, his libido spoke up after months of grieving. Yohji fumbled the bowl, Schuldig's smirk deepened into a grin and the microwave beeped behind them.

"I'm making us some popcorn, Kudou." 


	16. Chapter 16

Yohji was making his way slow and painstakingly quiet way towards the target's office, using the HVAC ductwork as his own personal conduit. Since it was still early spring he was periodically blasted by a wash of hot air that made his eyes sting from sweat and blown grit. He was broiling inside his leathers that were lightly lined with an armored under layer. His long coat had been left in the car, dismissed as a hindrance. When Yohji had asked his new leader why it had to be him in the ducts, Crawford had replied that he was the skinniest and the sneakiest without a gift to help. Great. A compliment, he supposed, and an insult in one answer.

To distract himself from the cramping in his legs, Yohji let his thoughts drift to the performance he had eavesdropped on the night before with Schuldig's help. If he was being honest Yohji would admit that he had been horribly turned on by what he saw. Who knew that Aya could be so damn sexy and seductive? The way his voice deepened to a rumbling purr had skated along Yohji's nerve endings and set them on fire with lust. Most men would have melted into a gooey submissive puddle by the redheaded sex god. Not Crawford. No, that hard ass had let Aya work his seductive magic without comment and all the while kept a little half smirk on his face as if he were bestowing the favor of his regard on his lover.

Not one to give up, however, Aya kept at it until he finally drew some honest to God responses from the silver haired dictator. He worked every inch of Crawford's body, making a careful study of what worked to best effect, and then exploited every weakness he found. As ruthless and controlled as his lover, Aya had worked over Crawford until the man had been writhing with need on the bed. Yohji snorted quietly to himself in amusement. Crawford had never begged. He had literally demanded that Aya take him and the gleam in his eyes had made it into a challenge Aya couldn't resist.

Schuldig and Yohji had observed all the way through until the climax. By the miracle of Schu's gift, the orgasms had rolled through the link to lay waste to them both. Yohji had come back to himself breathing in desperate gasps and his pants sticking to him unpleasantly. When he could move again he turned to see Schuldig in a similar state.

"Is it always like that with them and do you always peek?" Yohji asked.

Schuldig smiled back. "No, it's not always that, ah, explosive, and I don't watch them most of the time."

"Honor among assassins?"

"You make it sound impossible," Schuldig retorted but his eyes held a hint of sadness. "As satisfying as it sometimes is, second hand sex gets old after a while."

"So you do want him?"

"Drop it, Kudou," Schuldig warned. "You may think you know what makes me tick, but you would be surprised at how much you are getting wrong."

"Sorry," Yohji mumbled. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Of course you did. You wouldn't be you if you didn't, and I wouldn't be me if I didn't do this."

Schuldig used his inhuman speed and took advantage of Yohji's sprawled state to suddenly appear behind the couch, holding Yohji's head in place on the cushion. Yohji saw upside down blue eyes sparkling with mischief for a second before Schu dipped his head to take Yohji's lips in a hot, dominating kiss. Before he could tangle his hands in orange hair to take the kiss further, Schuldig was gone. The redhead had reappeared in the archway of the den smiling at Yohji's open mouthed shock and saying good night.

By this morning Yohji had been able to keep a blank face while facing his three new teammates at the breakfast table. It seemed all three had gotten much more rest than he. Yohji preferred to blame it on lingering jet lag rather than the thoughts that had kept him awake most of the night. He had been bombarded by a lot of revelations in a very short time and needed time to process all the new information.

It was Crawford's morning to cook and the meal was Western style. Yohji had been further surprised when the man actually asked his preference in how he liked his eggs before turning back to the stove. He had figured Crawford would have just cooked what he wanted and expected everyone to like it. Even more surprising was the careful and correct way Crawford brewed a cup of tea for Aya before sitting down to eat with the rest of them. That small act went a long way warming Yohji towards Crawford.

Now, his legs cramping from squatting for what felt like hours just behind the vent above the target's office, Yohji's thoughts were much less charitable. He wished fervently the others would hurry the hell up and arrive before he shriveled from dehydration and the blasting heat. He knew Crawford and Aya had to make their way up to the office floor by floor, taking out any minions as quietly as possible with Schuldig using his power to keep anyone ahead of them from noticing the noise.

Yohji had wanted to know if he should take out the target on his own if he was in a good position. Crawford had answered negatively. None of them were effective at computer hacking and they needed the target to log in to his computer before they killed him.

"Why can't Schuldig just snatch the passwords from his mind?" Yohji had asked.

"Because, Balinese, our target is a Rosenkruz trained talent. A sonic to be more exact." It was obvious Crawford disliked explaining his decisions. Well, too bad. He was still the leader, but this was a new Schwarz. "A sonic's mind is constantly flickering. Even a powerful telepath, and Schuldig is the most powerful ever born, can not get past the mental interference to read anything useful. The same interference also blocks my precognition. Because Schuldig can not read him and I can't foresee what he will do, this talent, Jager, will be one of the most dangerous men we eliminate. We will use our powers to the extent we can, but our greatest weapon will be the element of surprise."

"So, I'll be sneaking through the ductwork to get above his office. That's part of the surprise?"

"Yes," Crawford replied. "Your inclusion in the team is so recent that Jager won't have had time to know about you being with us. Once we actually eliminate his men and get to the office you will drop down from the ceiling and use your wire to immobilize him. You'll have to be quick and accurate. A sonic's talent is their incredible speed. If you don't get him on the first try he could conceivably kill us all before we blink twice."

"Is he worth the risk?" Aya asked.

"Absolutely," Crawford answered, his eyes warming as he gazed at his lover. "Hans Jager is one of the most ruthless Hunters Rosenkruz ever produced. His presence here in the United States means he is part of the ring rounding up children looking for talented kids to kidnap. I also have reason to believe that he had a hand in orchestrating the hits on you and Yohji. Jager would have known about Weiss' involvement in the crippling of Esset. Once he is dead and we have his hard drive, we will possibly have access to more of his contacts and information."

"Why do you think he would have any information like that on his computer? It could be hacked, you know." Aya looked skeptical.

"One, everything they put down is in a code taught only to Hunters at Rosenkruz, and two, Hunters are notoriously arrogant. Jager would never believe that he could actually be taken down despite the defeat of the elders of Esset. His arrogance, just like theirs, will be his end."

"And once he accesses his computer and we kill him what good is the information to us if it's encoded?"

"I can read it, Balinese." Crawford said, his honey brown eyes glittering with remembered malice. "I was trained as a Hunter. Ask Schuldig sometime how he was found and brought into Rosenkruz."

/We're here, Yohji./ Schuldig's voice pierced his mind. Yohji winced. Despite the advantage of silence, he still preferred communicators over a telepathic link.

/It's about time./ Yohji thought back. /He's been pecking at his laptop for a while now with a nasty grin on his face while I'm fucking roasting up here./

/Bitch, bitch, bitch. I'll give you a warm bath and rub down those sore muscles for you when we get back./

Who knew you could splutter incoherently and blush while also radiating lust through a telepathic link? Yohji must have because he could hear Schuldig snickering in his head. 

Schuldig and Crawford burst through the office door with guns drawn after Aya kicked it in. Jager immediately recognized the two Rosenkruz alumni and just as Yohji dropped from the ceiling grabbed his own gun and started firing. Gods, the man was fast! Yohji had never seen him go for the gun. Jager got off three shots before Yohji's wire sang out to settle over his body. Yohji jerked it tight with a snarl, cutting into the flesh and pinning the man's arms to his sides. The man struggled and spit curses furiously, damning their parentage and threatening prolonged death, but he had no allies left to hear him.

A stifled grunt of pain got their attention as Aya sheathed his katana. Somehow the bastard had got him. Blood poured in a steady stream from the side of his neck and dripped to the floor. As one, Crawford and Schuldig turned with identical snarls of pure rage to empty their guns into the wire tangled target. Beyond anger himself, Yohji threw a second loop of wire and yanked with enough force to sever the man's head, blood fountaining up to splatter Yohji's face and clothes with war paint.

Schuldig ran to Aya and used his bandanna to wipe away the blood so he could see the injury.

"Just a graze," Schuldig exhaled in relief. "It's only superficial. If you had been a millisecond slower, kitten, he would have got you through the jugular."

"I'll be grateful later, Schu. Crawford has the laptop. Let's get the fuck out of here." Aya groused.

Yohji was unreasonably pissed that Aya had been injured, despite the hazards they all courted by being assassins. Crawford was a fucking precognitive! You would think he would at least use his gift to keep his lover from danger, Yohji fumed to himself. Schuldig caught the thought and glanced at Yohji before assisting Aya to his feet.

/I suggest you keep that to yourself, Yohji. Neither one of them would appreciate what you are implying, although I don't like seeing Aya hurt either./

Crawford shut down and tucked the laptop under his arm. He snapped a new clip into his gun before they made their exit just as the digital clock on the desk flipped to midnight, March third.

"We just killed one of the men directly involved in your wife's death. You got to decapitate him yourself. Happy Birthday, Balinese."

Crawford led the way back to the car while Schuldig and Yohji surreptiously watched Aya walk out on his own. He had shaken off their assistance but was deathly pale. Yohji glared at Crawford's back. The arrogant fuck didn't even have a drop of blood on his suit. Schuldig clasped Yohji's blood slick hand in his own, squeezing tightly until Yohji's anger subsided. Aya was hurt, but he would be fine. The target was dead.

"Happy Birthday to me," Yohji muttered under his breath. "Fucking grand. I made it through another year."

"This will be a better year, Yotan. You'll see." Schuldig smiled at him while keeping one eye on Aya. 


	17. Chapter 17

Yohji sat in numb silence in the basement mud room that served as Schwarz's infirmary as Schuldig and Crawford cleaned and examined the gash in Aya's neck. The blood from their target had dried into a foul smelling, crackling coating that fell in flakes from his skin and clothes. Although he said nothing to draw attention to himself, Yohji could feel Aya's eyes watching him. He shook with the urge to hide from the scrutiny. He was afraid someone would see behind his eyes and discover the huge amount of satisfaction he had gained from killing Jager.

Yohji had reveled in the final gurgle and whistle of escaping air as the wire sliced through neck muscle and the trachea to the crunching of the vertebrae that had transmitted down the wire to his hands. He lifted one blood stiffened glove to his mouth and tugged it off with his teeth. With fingers that no longer shook he scratched the kanji for Asuka in the red brown stain on his cheek and turned his head to hide the tears that washed through the mess. Yes, he had exulted in the kill and even welcomed the accompanying shower of blood that rained down on him. It had been, coincidentally on the day of his birth, like a baptism from hell to consecrate his rebirth as a killer.

"Yohji?" Schuldig stood before him. "It's your turn."

"'I'm not injured," Yohji mumbled, facing away.

Schuldig gently but firmly grasped him by the elbow and guided him to sit on a low table. He removed the remaining glove taking note of the slashes in the leather. Schu hissed softly when he saw the matching cuts on Yohji's fingers and palms. Yohji's last jerk had been vicious enough that the razor sharp wire had cut through the heavy leather and bitten into the vulnerable flesh it was supposed to protect.

"Damn Yohji," Schuldig berated him as he filled a basin with soapy water. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't feel anything," Yohji replied. In fact, he was still numb. He stared dispassionately at damaged hands that could have belonged to anyone, but they didn't. They were the hands of a killer and they belonged to him.

"They still need to be cleaned and bandaged."

If Schuldig was hearing any of Yohji's internal monologue, he gave so sign of it to Crawford and Aya. He merely efficiently cleaned the gore from Yohji's hands and used a wet cloth to wash away blood, the kanji and the evidence of tears from Yohji's face while blocking view of Yohji from his teammates with his own body. The telepath tilted Yohji's chin and the look in his eyes was surprisingly gentle and understanding as he rubbed the cloth over Yohji's cheekbones. Yohji fancied he saw pity in the blue depths of Schuldig's eyes and he closed his own tightly, his thoughts tinged with shame. Schuldig squeezed his chin and gave it a small shake so Yohji would open his eyes.

/No shame, Yohji. Don't be ashamed at being glad that fucker is dead. The only shameful thing is that Jager could only die once for the things he has done./

/I shouldn't have enjoyed it, Schu. It was still murder./ Yohji answered, pathetically grateful that he didn't have to speak aloud.

Schuldig smiled ironically and stroked his thumbs down Yohij's cheeks.

/You Weiss kitties, always needing the moral high ground to stand on. That Hunter was responsible for taking so many children from their mothers at the command of Esset. The ones that weren't strong enough died. The ones that survived lived only to be enslaved to Esset after their humanity was abandoned in favor of cultivating their gifts. If getting revenge for your wife's death is not enough for you, Yohji, then think of it as justice for all those children./

Yohji reached up with both hands to clasp Schuldig's wrists and hold his hands to his face. He finally made eye contact and found his anchor in pools of purest blue.

/Was what Crawford said true, Schuldig? Were you one of those children? Was he the Hunter that gave you to Rosenkruz/

Schuldig's eyes dimmed briefly and he freed his wrists with an easy twist to begin pulling the cuts together with skin glue. Yohji thought he may have pushed too hard.

/Yes, Yohji/ Schuldig said eventually. /Yes, to all of it./

/Then why do you stay with him/

/Because he's also the same man who freed us from them. Now, shut up, so I can finish you hands and quit dwelling on tonight./

Crawford finished the work on Aya's neck and covered it with Nu-skin to make it watertight for bathing. He took Aya's coat and shirt and dumped them in a special bin until they could be sent to their personal cleaners, men highly paid to do good work with no questions asked. Schuldig put Yohji's shirt in the same bin after easing it from his shoulders but tossed the ruined gloves into a small incinerator.

Yohji could hear Crawford speaking softly to Aya, asking him to stay the rest of the night in his room. His suit didn't look so pristine any more, stained with Aya's blood in places. Huh, maybe the ass did care for Aya. Yohji remembered the look of absolute rage that had contorted Crawford's normally composed face as he pumped the target full of lead. One well placed bullet would have been sufficient, but both Crawford and Schuldig had emptied their clips into Jager. Yohji snorted wryly. What could he say? He had been the one to decapitate a man who was already thoroughly ventilated.

Before going upstairs Aya gripped Yohji's shoulder and peered into his face.

"You okay, Yohji?"

"I will be," Yohji answered honestly.

"Tomorrow Crawford will work on getting what he can from that computer. I'd like to talk to you then if you will give me the time."

"So formal, Aya?" Yohji chuckled a bit. "I'm still just Kudou Yohji, immature playboy assassin. Sure we'll talk tomorrow."

Aya walked to where Crawford waited for him and they headed upstairs together, Crawford's arm around Aya's shoulders. Yohji watched them disappear before dropping his half smile. There was no point in pretending around a telepath.

"Nope, no point at all," Schuldig answered. "It's time to get you upstairs, too. You still have blood in your hair and will need my help to shampoo."

"So your Nurse Betty routine is all just a plot to get me naked and wet?"

"Baby, I don't need to plot to get that," Schuldig smirked. "We'll use my room. When we moved here I insisted that I get a huge whirlpool tub."

"Hedonist."

"You know it."

Yohji shortly found himself naked indeed, sitting in warm swirling water with his bandaged hands dangling over the edge. An equally naked telepath sat behind him and used a hand held sprayer to wet Yohji's hair before massaging in some exotic smelling shampoo. Yohji all but purred as those slender talented fingers stroked through his scalp and lulled him. For some reason, he mused, all of his lovers had enjoyed washing his hair. Even Asuka had loved to play with the wavy locks.

Yohji sat forward from his relaxed position and gasped for breath as a hot, burning ball of pure grief lodged in his chest. Schuldig made no comment, just gathered the blond assassin to his chest and held him as Yohji buried his face in the telepath's neck and howled all the pain he had never given voice to since his wife had been killed. Drowning in Yohji's grief, he stroked the other man's back and never noticed the tears that spilled from his own eyes.

In Crawford's room the precognitive lay awake with his arms around his sleeping lover, trying to force visions of the future to better plan their next moves. He caught faint glimpses, but could catch nothing concrete due to the distracting thoughts he kept having about nearly losing tonight the man he held so tightly. Hadn't it been drilled into his head that distractions and attachments could ruin him or get him killed? But that was Rosenkruz's fucked up training and Esset's damned rules. He was a free man now. Schwarz was free to be whatever they wanted. Hadn't Nagi realized it first, leaving to pursue his own career?

"And a child shall lead them," Crawford murmured to the darkness.

Aya shifted against him, disturbed by Crawford's restlessness despite the pain medication in his system. Crawford smoothed his hand down his lover's body and pressed his lips into red hair, telling himself that it was worth it, that somehow, someway he would have everything he wanted and Schwarz would continue to prosper.

Just on the edge of sleep a vision flashed through his consciousness and Crawford smiled wickedly.

"You go, Schu," He snickered aloud. 


	18. Chapter 18

Yohji woke to a smothering field of orange. Oh Gods, all those years of making jokes about Aya's hideous orange sweater had come back to haunt him. Surely Aya didn't still possess the thing, but he must because here it was back for revenge trying to suffocate Yohji in his sleep. Then the orange separated into individual strands that slid across Yohji's cheek like silk as the body clasped in his arms rolled over on its back.

"That's some imagination you have there, Kudou," Schuldig yawned and ruffled his wild mane. "You could write for some bad 'B' movie company. 'Attack of the Killer Orange Sweater' or maybe a documentary like 'Fashion Mistakes and the Assassins Who Make Them'."

Yohji blinked rapidly at him, trying to wrap his mind around the fact he was in Schuldig's bed and desparately trying to remember how he got there.

"Schu, we...didn't, did we?"

"Nein."

Yohji's look of relief was comical.

"I don't know which offends me more, Kudou, the fact you could believe I would be so forgettable that you wouldn't remember or your relief that we didn't." Schuldig crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin with a sniff.

Yohji grinned sheepishly and tugged on a lock of the telepath's hair. "Don't be offended. You know you're gorgeous. I was just worried I might have taken advantage of you."

Now it was Schuldig's turn to eye Yohji in disbelief and he laughed until tears flowed from his eyes and he had to clutch his stomach.

"God, Kudou! You are a gem," Schuldig managed to gasp out between bouts of giggles. "I think you are the first person to ever worry about taking advantage of me."

Yohji thought that was very sad and very telling about Schuldig's past, but he tactfully tucked the thought into the darkest recesses of his mind and hoped the telepath didn't catch it.

"So you let me bawl all over you then tucked me in and let me snuggle you like a security blanket?"

"Mutual snuggling, kitten. You were hurting last night and I chose to put you in my bed. Neither one of us took advantage of the other." Schuldig's smile turned suggestive and he tangled his fingers in Yohji's hair to pull the blond close. "But it's morning now." 

He nibbled at the corner of Yohji's mouth and Yohji allowed their lips to brush in a chaste kiss, then he pulled back. Yohji looked intently into the telepath's blue eyes until he was satisfied with whatever he saw there. He pulled Schuldig in for another soft kiss, stroking the clinging waterfall of red hair then resolutely set the telepath away from him.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Schu, and tell you that I'm not attracted. I'm just not ready. I wouldn't want to jump into something if my head's not straight on the matter and I don't want to hurt you." Yohji laughed at himself. "Kudou Yohji turning down sex. The Gods must be laughing."

Schuldig wasn't laughing. He was staring at Yohji with something akin to puzzled fascination. Whatever the telepath was thinking, it quickened his breathing and pinked his cheeks. Yohji climbed from the bed and dropped a kiss on Schuldig's temple.

"Thanks for being there for me last night and thanks for keeping it between us. I'm going to my room to shower and change. Don't worry. I'll put fresh dressings on my hands. I guess it's my turn for cooking, so don't expect much. I think I can manage something passable although what you did for me last night deserves a gourmet meal," Yohji babbled.

"Anytime," Schuldig murmured, a dazed look on his face as Yohji left the room.

Yohji encountered Crawford in the hallway right outside Schuldig's door. The precognitive raised an eyebrow and Yohji blushed like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew.

"It's not what you think," Yohji blurted defensively.

"I didn't ask," Crawford returned in a cool voice. "If something happened it would be your business."

"Um, yeah," Yohji mumbled and sped to his own room.

Crawford shook his head at the departing assassin and quietly opened his own door. Despite pain medications, Aya's well honed instincts had him opening his eyes immediately at the small sounds Crawford made.

"Brad?"

"Here." Crawford sat on the side of the bed and brushed aside the fall of red bangs to look at Aya's neck. "How does it feel?"

"Fine."

"I think you would argue that you were fine if you lost a limb and carried the bloody thing home."

Aya let loose a short laugh and threaded the fingers of their hands together. "I'll try to bitch and whine a little more."

Crawford lingered only a moment more before taking his coffee into his office where the laptop awaited. Aya sighed to himself and touched ginger fingertips to the bandage on his neck. Privately he admitted the gash stung viciously. Added to that, the still livid bruises he had been given in Japan still bloomed colorfully and ached if he let himself think about them. Aya stifled another sigh and climbed from the bed to shower himself.

Feeling somewhat better he descended to the kitchen to find his new old teammate standing outside the terrace doors smoking and nursing a mug of coffee. Aya cleared his throat to announce his presence and was surprised to see Yohji jump and blush a deep red clear to the roots of his hair.

"Ah, Aya. Morning." Yohji took a quick drag to cover his embarassment.

"You okay this morning, Yohji? You seem distracted and jumpy."

"I'm fine. Better. You?"

Aya frowned at Yohji and gestured impatiently for him to finish the cigarette and follow him back into the kitchen. Once inside the two assassins stared at one another, at a loss how to begin. Finally, Aya laid a gentle hand on Yohji's shoulder.

"I'm sorry your life with your wife was ruined," Aya said quietly.

Yohji's eyes widened and glistened wetly before he hardened his gaze. He placed his own hand over Aya's and squeezed then moved away from physical contact. Yohji swallowed more coffee, trying to find the words.

"Asuka deserved better," Yohji said so softly Aya nearly missed his first words. "I always felt in some part of my mind that I was cheating her, that I was using her to replace someone else. I think she could feel that. Sometimes I would catch her watching me and her face was always so sad. We weren't getting along very well. The day she was killed we were arguing and she had rushed ahead of me. If she hadn't whoever was waiting for me wouldn't have... She wouldn't have been..."

"Yohji."

Yohji shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the remembered shock. Aya remained still until the blonde resumed speaking.

"She deserved better," Yohji repeated. "I can't do anything about that now, but I can see that the ones responsible for her death pay with their lives. It won't be enough, but it's something I can do."

Aya nodded. He knew better than anyone how empty Yohji's eventual revenge would leave him feeling, but he was unwilling to tamper with the vengeful crutch Yohji so obviously needed. Yohji looked strained and frayed to breaking. He watched as the blonde assassin beat back his pain and turned a small, patently false, smile on him.

"So, how did you come to join Schwarz? Given our history, I would think the last thing you would do is join with them. I'll give you that they have changed, or maybe we just never really knew them, but I don't remember you as someone willing to give them a chance."

Aya's smile was edged and self mocking.

"Bleeding to death alone in a foreign country is how they found me. I was marked, same as you. Crawford saw it, I suppose, and scooped me off the sidewalk. They offered me a place. I took it."

Yohji snorted at Aya's terse explanation. It was so typical of the man he remembered, and it was obviously only the bare bones of the matter. Rather than pick at Aya when he was holding on to his own painful revelations, Yohji let it all go except one question that nagged him.

"If Crawford saw the attack in a vision, why didn't he prevent you from getting injured in the first place?" Yohji asked. 


	19. Chapter 19

Aya had left Yohji stirring something unrecognizable for breakfast. The blond assassin's question burned in his mind. Why HAD Crawford allowed him to be stabbed? Could he have prevented it? The urge to confront Crawford in his office and demand answers was very strong, but Aya ignored it. He needed time alone to come to terms with the pain he felt in his chest. Aya didn't understand why he felt hurt anyway. It wasn't like they had been lovers when he was attacked. Still, it felt like a betrayal of some kind. He rubbed his knuckles over his breastbone and padded to his room for his sword. Maybe a punishing workout would make things clearer.

Schuldig was waiting for him in his room. Aya sighed heavily. He should have known the telepath would eavesdrop on his conversation with Yohji.

"It wasn't with malicious intent, Aya. Yohji's mental pain is considerable. It's not easy to block emotions that strong. I started listening to see if he would be okay."

"So you know what he asked me?"

"Ja."

"Well?"

Schuldig shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want me to say, kitty? It's not like Crawford makes me privy to all his thoughts. I didn't know we were rescuing you until right before we did."

"And after?" Aya asked.

"You know what happened after. We brought you home and took care of you."

"Manipulated my emotions, too."

Schuldig looked offended. "More like made you realize you had some." He spread his hands wide in supplication. "Have you been unhappy with us? Was it such a bad deal to join us?"

"Couldn't Crawford have approached me earlier?"

"I don't know. Can you honestly say you would have listened and even considered his proposal?"

Aya considered that and had to admit to himself that he probably wouldn't have. It was more likely he would have attacked them first and asked questions later or never. Aya drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt Schuldig cross the room and cup his face. Aya opened his eyes to see earnest blue ones searching his expression.

"Don't be angry, Aya. Things worked out for the best. Maybe events happened the way they were supposed to. For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here." A small mysterious smile curved the telepath's mouth. "I'm glad you're both here."

Aya touched his forehead to Schuldig's and stroked the other man's long hair. That was a change in himself he couldn't regret, the ability to touch and accept the touch of another. Schuldig cocked his head to the side and snickered. At Aya's puzzled look he gestured to the downstairs.

"Yohji is not so great in the kitchen. He's cursing and picking egg shells from the eggs."

Aya smiled faintly. "Maybe we better rescue him before he poisons us all."

"I'll go. You need to talk to Crawford, Ja?" Schuldig beamed his most mischievous grin. "Take some of the starch out of him."

Aya gave the smirking telepath a light shove and knocked on Crawford's office door right before entering. The man behind everything sat at his desk, his silvery hair hanging in his eyes. Honey brown eyes gleamed knowingly over the top of his steel-framed glasses. He watched Aya approach expectantly.

"I think you already know what I want to ask," Aya began.

"Yes and I did let you get hurt," Crawford interrupted him.

That traitorous pang twinged Aya's chest again. He ruthlessly suppressed it.

"You wouldn't have talked to me otherwise," Crawford continued. "You know it and I know it."

"You took advantage of my weakened state and used my loneliness against me," Aya accused.

"I did," Crawford acknowledged. He removed his glasses and rose from his leather chair to stand before Aya. "I used every opening to get you to join us and I would do it again."

Aya stared fixedly at Crawford's collar instead of meeting his gaze. His throat tightened painfully on his next question, but he had to know.

"Is that why you took me to bed, too?"

Soft laughter followed his question and Aya flinched at his own stupidity. The bastard was laughing at him! He stepped backwards before the urge to do something violent overtook him. Crawford caught his chin in a vise like grip and forced Aya's head up to meet his gaze.

"I took you to bed because I desired you, Aya, no other reason," Crawford said with a husky tone of voice. "Believe me when I say my job as leader of Schwarz would be easier without you as my lover. You started to matter to me."

Because of the irritation in his lover's voice, Aya took his words as truth. He remembered that Crawford's anger had been disproportionate over his arrival in Japan. Some small amount of relief flooded him. Crawford wasn't using him. Aya threaded his fingers through Crawford's silver hair to pull his head down the couple of inches necessary to reach his mouth.

"I can't say I'm sorry I'm here, Brad," Aya mouthed the words in a whisper over Crawford's lips. He could feel the slight responsive shaking in the taller man's hand on his jaw. "But if you ever try manipulating me like that again I'll filet you with my katana."

"So noted," Crawford answered and crushed his mouth in a bruising kiss. He brushed a possessive hand over the vulnerable skin and recent injury of Aya's neck.

Crawford turned Aya until his hips rested against the edge of the desk and tilted his head back with a handful of red hair. He skimmed his lips down the pale throat to feel the rapid pulse and swirled his tongue in the hollow. Aya arched his back and one leg raised in reflex to wrap around Crawford's flank. His breathing quickened at the feel of teeth lightly scraping against his skin. He leaned back on his elbows when Crawford raised the hem of his shirt to lave the skin of his taut abdomen while clever hands made quick work of unfastening his pants. Crawford took him in with one swallow and Aya's breath left him in an explosive gasp.

The incredible heat and suction left Aya trembling with need. Crawford teased him by slowing his movements to a leisurely pace that ratcheted his desire but denied him release.

"Brad," Aya moaned. "Gods, I want..."

Aya's words trailed off as Crawford stripped him of his pants and pushed him further onto the desk. Dislodged papers fluttered unheeded to the floor. Crawford leaned over Aya and reached for the top drawer and came up with a familiar tube.

"You planned this?" Aya tried to focus his thoughts enough to be coherent.

Crawford licked the shell of his ear and flipped the top to coat his fingers. Sure, confident touches had Aya writhing and panting. He rocked his hips against Crawford's fingers and clutched at his back. Crawford drew back to drop his own slacks and briefs. He used his slick hand to stroke their erections together. Aya hummed deep in his throat and crossed his ankles behind Crawford's back to grind them tighter together.

"It always pays to be prepared," Crawford answered and thrust forward in one smooth stroke.

"What?" Aya forgot the question as Crawford hit his prostate dead on. He groaned and clung to broad shoulders.

Crawford wrapped his fingers around Aya's throat to force eye contact while he flexed his hips. Brown bore into lavender and he sped up his strokes until Aya came with a hoarse cry. His body tightened on Crawford and the man slammed him hard into the desk with another stroke to empty himself with a throbbing moan. They sprawled over the desk, trembling and gasping for air. Aya felt thoroughly debauched and sated. His back ached from contact with the unyielding wood and his legs felt rubbery. Crawford rested on his chest and framed his face to kiss him deeply.

/Yohji and I are going out for breakfast./ Schuldig's voice invaded both their heads. /You two are on your own./

"Fine with me," Crawford answered aloud, still holding Aya's gaze. "Come back around lunch."

/Lunch? You're bragging, Crawford./

/Go away, Schu/ Aya grinned and slid off the desk to pull Crawford after him to stumble back to the bedroom.

Aya let the rest of his doubts flow from his mind and grabbed Crawford's shirt to rip the buttons loose. Crawford's eyes popped open in disbelief at his lover's impatient eagerness.

"That was Turnbull and Asser."

"Now it's a rag," Aya purred.

"I should take that out on your ass," Crawford stalked the redhead across the room.

"Not this time, Brad." Aya pounced and wrestled the heavier man beneath him to the bed. "Turn about's fair play. My turn."

Schuldig grabbed his keys and hustled Yohji into the garage to keep from jumping the blond goaded by second hand lust. When he finally got Yohji back into bed Schuldig wanted it to be purely the two of them and not the echoes of their teammates. He was sure it was only a matter of time. Life in Schwarz hadn't been this good ever. 


	20. Chapter 20

Damn, Yohji was gorgeous working with his wire. Fluid, graceful, sleek and sexy. Schuldig kept tabs on the rest of his team while watching his current obsession work his way through a band of thugs. Almost as an afterthought Schuldig aimed and shot at a couple that thought to take advantage of his distraction. Really, he thought, sneaking up on a telepath with a loaded weapon was just suicide. Yohji's wire sang past his head with a hiss to garrote someone behind him. Okay, maybe he was being just a tad under observant.

Schuldig stepped forward to let the body fall past him and grinned in appreciation at Yohji. Yohji frowned back at him, worried that Schuldig had let an enemy get so close. Shaking back his blazing mane, Schuldig shrugged at him and continued onwards to kick in their target's door. Shaking, fearful and all but pissing his pants, the man crept backwards to plaster himself against the far wall. Nowhere left to go. His bodyguards were all dead. In a last, instinctive effort to save himself the man jerkily fired his gun at the advancing telepath. Schuldig read his intent before the thought was even finished and dodged the bullet with ease. It only managed to sizzle a lock of hair in passing, but it was enough to enrage the hopelessly vain telepath.

"That was just plain stupid, Deckart." Schuldig's voice was low, menacing and bristling with anger. "You just ruined any chance you had of getting out of this alive."

"Fuck you, Schuldig!" Deckart snarled back in a lame attempt at defiance. "I already know I'm going to die. At least I get to die knowing you won't be far behind me on the way to hell."

"Really," Schuldig drawled sarcastically.

"Schwarz will pay for the ruin you made of Esset." Furious eyes flicked to Yohji. "Weiss also. How's the wife, Balinese?"

Yohji flinched perceptibly but maintained his pose of indolent unconcern. Only Schuldig could hear the howls of pain and rage behind the blond's cool expression.

"You're only making this more worth my while, bastard," Schuldig said and unloaded the gun in the man's belly then used his gift to paralyze the Esset flunky and stroke his pain to extreme heights.

An additional touch and Deckart no longer had the ability to scream. Schuldig and Yohji watched with similar degrees of satisfaction as the man writhed helplessly while his own stomach acids destroyed his insides. Deckart bled and died within minutes, his extended and horrifying death unintentionally providing a balm to the two men. Crawford and Aya entered the office shortly after the last spasm ceased.

Crawford took in the scene and holstered his own weapon. Aya followed silently and wiped his katana clean on the gaudy window dressings before sheathing the blade. The harsh, ringing scrape of the metal broke Yohji's trance and redirected Schuldig's attention. Schuldig assessed Yohji's mental state and stepped to his side in unspoken solidarity.

"Any useful information, Mastermind?"

"Not much," Schuldig shook his head. "Deckart was a very minor player, but he did confirm that both Schwarz and Weiss are being hunted specifically for the deaths of the elders."

"Weiss is no more, and we didn't have much of a hand in your coup," Aya protested angrily.

"Guilty by association if nothing else, Abyssinian, and you were instrumental in destroying Epitaph," Crawford replied. "Did you find out who he answered to?"

Schuldig hesitated then uttered with a tinge of uncharacteristic fear. "Pollock."

Crawford turned this information over in his head. Schuldig had every reason to worry if Pollock was still alive. A telepath on par with Schuldig, Pollock also had the ability to link with other psychically gifted people to expand his own power. As far as Schwarz knew the man had limitless capacity to siphon others' gifts. Because of this Pollock had been in the unique position of disciplinarian of any agent who dared to defy Esset. Schuldig had encountered the man more than a few times over the years for his defiance of authority and none of the times were pleasant. Crawford had been witness to every time Schuldig returned to Schwarz badly injured and nearly broken. If anyone could inspire fear in the irreverent telepath it was Cyril Pollock.

Since no one had spoken of the man except in hushed whispers, information concerning his survival had not yet reached Crawford. It was entirely possible Pollock was the one remaining in the shadows and working to draw together the scattered remains of Esset's regime. Crawford had no idea how many high level talents could be under Pollock's influence and the gap in information was unacceptable. Jager's laptop had yielded only Deckart's and a few other minor agents' locations. It wouldn't be long before word of Schwarz's continuing hunt reached the other agents. They would have to move quickly to secure their next targets.

To add insult to injury, they weren't being paid to eliminate a lot of these minions. The only payoff was personal satisfaction and continued security of the team. Crawford glared at the cooling corpse. Deckart's death wasn't satisfying at all to Crawford. The dead man's revelation of his superior's identity was more disturbing than helpful if Schuldig's fidgeting was any clue. Crawford hid his dissatisfaction behind his icy facade and turned around to leave the body to rot on its own. They needed to rest while he formulated a new plan before they flew to Arizona and their next target.

"Let's go," Crawford ordered and didn't bother to see if his team followed him. He knew they would.

In the car Schuldig sat in the back seat with Yohji and unsuccessfully tried to block the influx of memories caused by mention of Pollock. He shivered convulsively from time to time as a particularly painful event rose to the fore. Yohji kept watch over him from the corner of his eye and scooted closer.

/Schu/ Yohji queried, his mental tone conveying his concern.

/Bad memories, Yotan. Bad, bad memories/ Schuldig sent back. /I'll be fine. One of the major drawbacks of my gift is a perfect memory. Pollock...hurt me many times./

Yohji didn't press for more when Schuldig didn't elaborate. Instead, he wrapped his arm around the telepath's shoulders. Schuldig exhaled a slow breath and leaned into the warmth of the blond's lean body. His still unformed plan to seduce Yohji took a back seat to accepting the comfort and friendship of the other assassin. He caught Crawford watching them in the rear view mirror and managed a tremulous smile. Schuldig had faith in his leader. Crawford knew what Pollock was capable of and would take the steps necessary to safeguard the team until the man could be killed.

"What's next, Crawford?" Aya asked, his weariness apparent. They had been working non-stop for over a week to find and take out Deckart.

Crawford's eyes softened. He knew Aya had to be really wiped to reveal any tiredness. Because the redhead never complained it was easy to forget that neither he nor Yohji had the endurance Crawford and Schuldig had. Even so, Crawford was worn himself. He had been pushing his gift relentlessly for some time.

"We rest for a couple of days then we fly to Phoenix," Crawford answered.

"Oh, joy," Schuldig joked. "The desert."

"Desert?" The idea intrigued both Yohji and Aya. Neither man had ever left Japan before the dissolution of Weiss. They were getting an involuntary education, but neither found it cumbersome.

Back at the house Aya waved off his teammates and slipped into his own room for the night. Crawford looked a little peeved before an unexpected yawn nearly cracked his own jaw. Perhaps Aya had the right idea. A night of rest was in order and, God knows, having Aya in his bed inspired much better activities than sleep.

Schuldig quietly entered his bedroom and leaned against the door. He felt miserable. Unless he could get the memories under control and back below the surface they would follow him into sleep and become horrendous nightmares. It was times like these that Schuldig hated his gift with a burning passion. He lifted his hands in front of his face and glared at the shaking evident. Schuldig clenched his fists and stalked to his decadent tub for a long soak in lavender scented water. Catching sight of the frayed lock of hair at the side of his face added another irritant. Fucking Deckart! He should have prolonged his death a bit more just on principle.

Yohji came awake with a start. Had he heard something? His nerves hummed with tension but his ears provided no answer. On impulse, he crept down the hallway to Schuldig's room. The telepath was awake, sitting with the French doors open to let in a cold breeze. Yohji shivered at the drop in temperature. Schuldig seemed oblivious, a cigarette dangling from his fingers and dropping ash on the hardwood floor.

"Schuldig?" Yohji spread his fingers over the man's bright head.

Schuldig jumped, dropping his cigarette to stare at Yohji with uncomprehending eyes. Yohji stubbed the butt in the forgotten ashtray and knelt in front of Schuldig to frame his face.

"Come back, Schu," Yohji coaxed. "Come back here to me where no one is hurting you."

Yohji had no idea if what he was doing would be any help at all, but instinct told him to keep trying. It pained him to see his normally loud and boisterous teammate looking so fragile and withdrawn. Somehow the slender man even appeared slighter and diminished. Blue eyes, dark with pain, roamed over Yohji's face without recognition and Schuldig tugged at Yohji's wrists, making animalistic sounds of desperation.

Yohji enfolded the redhead in an embrace, pressing the pale face against his neck and stroking soothing hands over the tense back. He murmured meaningless syllables of comfort in multiple languages. It wasn't long before he felt hot tears sliding down his neck. Schuldig still made no sound. It had been trained in him long ago not voice aloud his pain. In the past he wouldn't even have allowed the tears, but Yohji was here and not asking anything of him. Yohji was accepting and holding him and not looking to take advantage of the smallest weakness.

Schuldig leaned in when soft lips and delicate swipes of Yohji's tongue tasted his tears and swept away his grief. He came back to himself enough to raise his face to meet Yohji's eyes. Yohji drew in his breath at the blatant affection and desire reflected in their blue depths. Schuldig slowly raised his arms to encircle Yohji's shoulders, keeping his grasp loose to let Yohji know he still had the option to refuse.

Yohji stayed within the embrace and lifted his hand to cup the side of Schuldig's face, a face almost to beautiful to be male, the features delicate and alluring. He got the distinct feeling that Schuldig's garish clothes and mocking sneer were armor to protect a soft, soft heart.

Yohji had spent the week examining his relationships and dissecting the flaws in each, both with him and his partners. Except for the time he had spent with the original Asuka, every other relationship had been marred by the same fatal fact. Neither party had ever been totally honest with the other about their feelings or their past. Schuldig knew everything there was to know about Yohji. Schuldig said as much, having researched and thoroughly scanned the mind of his primary opponent back when Weiss and Schwarz were on opposite sides. After his initial irritated reaction Yohji had felt a consuming relief that at least one person in the world knew everything about him and still accepted him. His heart ached for such a connection with someone else, someone to love him unconditionally and totally.

The fascinated and adoring looks the telepath had been giving Yohji all week had let him know Schuldig's feelings about him. Would it really be so bad to succumb to the gorgeous man and allow himself to bask in his affection? Attraction was not a problem. Even when they had been enemies Yohji had thought the foreigner's exotic coloring and pixie like features alluring.

Yohji tightened his grip when he felt Schuldig withdrawing from him having taken Yohji's reflective contemplation as a subtle rejection. Schuldig had allowed Yohji the privacy of his thoughts and had no idea what the blond was thinking. Yohji smiled and tilted the fey face to a better angle. Internal argument over and decision made, Yohji skimmed his lips over the whisper soft skin of Schudig's cheekbone. He touched his tongue to the delicate hollow below the ear where the skin is very thin and sensitive. A soft sigh of pleasure rewarded his effort.

"Do you still want me, Schu?" Yohji murmured, his voice husky and sensual.

"I do," Schuldig rasped. "But I don't want a pity fuck you will regret later."

Yohji chuckled darkly, the warm sound raising goose bumps on Schuldig's skin.

"I don't do pity fucks."

Schudig tried to come up with a cocky smile. "Top or bottom?"

"Top," Yohji answered immediately, pulling their bodies flush together. "I want to see how your skin glows against those dark silk sheets of yours. I want to make love to you because I don't think anyone has ever taken the time to savor the treasure you are. I want to make you tremble in my arms and hold you when I bring you over the edge. I want to hear you whisper my name and I want to see if your eyes grow brighter with desire."

"Yohji," Schuldig whispered, completely wooed by the blond's words. "I want that, too."

In an extravagant show of gallantry, Yohji swept up the redhead into his arms and carried him to the large bed. 


	21. Chapter 21

Yohji laid Schuldig down on the bed as if he was the most delicate creature ever made. He started at the telepath's feet and removed the garish bunny slippers to caress the soft and sensitive soles of his feet. Schuldig arched in response to the not quite tickling feeling. He moaned a little when Yohji swept delicate strokes of his tongue over the thin skin of his ankles. No one had ever taken the time to explore his body and find out what brought him the most pleasure. Yohji was overwhelming him with sensation and they were still fully clothed. 

Yohji pulled Schuldig to a sitting position and gently lifted the loose shirt over his head freeing his mane of hair to fly around his face and down his back. The blonde leaned close to bury his face in the soft, bright strands, inhaling Schuldig's unique spicy scent. It reminded him of cloves and oranges. Yohji breathed a warm puff of air against one small, perfect ear and whispered reassurances. 

"Gonna make you feel so good, baby."

"Yohji," Schuldig whispered a little desperately.

"Soon, baby, soon. Let me enjoy you and show you how much I want you."

Schuldig lay back and surrendered himself to Yohji completely. Yohji wrapped several locks of flaming hair around his fingers and rubbed them on his face.

"Your hair is like living fire. Just like the rest of you, it attracts with the promise of warmth and the possibility of getting burned if one gets too close. Your mouth is hot and pliant but not too soft. It makes a man want to taste and savor your flavor. Will you be sweet, spicy, a combination of both?"

Yohji suited actions to words and licked at Schuldig's lips until the man parted them in invitation. Yohji explored every part, the ridged roof, the baby soft inside cheeks, the hard pearly teeth before lazily initiating a slow tangle of tongues. Overcome with pleasure, Schuldig gripped Yohji's hair to force a deeper contact. Yohji pulled away and smiled softly at the bereft whimper that slipped from the telepath's throat.

"Don't rush, baby. I'm all about enjoying every moment."

"Yohji, you're killing me!"

"No, I'm not," Yohji replied, amused. "I'm giving you the attention and admiration your beauty deserves."

Schuldig was so aroused he wanted to use his gift to compel Yohji to get on with it, but he couldn't deny the thick, warm pleasure Yohji was making him feel. He bit his lip in an effort to stay quiet, but it was no use. Breathy sighs of desire flew from his throat when Yohji burned a trail of wet kisses from this mouth to his nipples, laving one with his tongue and lightly pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger. Electric jolts of sensation shot through Schuldig's body and he writhed from the sheer pleasure of it. 

More kisses lower down had his stomach muscles tensing with anticipation. Callused fingers added their own form of pleasant feeling brushing his skin as Yohji eased the loose sleeping pants from his hips to his knee. Yohji paused to admire the proud erection standing stiffly and hugely engorged, a pearly drop of pre come glistening on the tip. He flicked his tongue over it to taste and a gasping groan erupted from Schuldig. His hips bucked upwards uncontrollably. Yohji pinned him and continued to feather light, teasing kisses from hipbone to hipbone, pausing to suck at a bit of skin that stretched tautly over the bones.

Yohji pushed the pants down further and followed the vaguely Vee shaped light down of ginger hair that pointed the way to the pulsing and leaking cock that desperately wanted his mouth's attentions. He took just the head in his mouth and suckled gently, then brought his tongue into play to swirl around the tip and delve shallowly in the slit before continuing to lick with broad strokes up and down the shaft. He used his fingers to shift aside the heavy sac of balls to lightly rim the hidden entrance with a deft touch. Schuldig moaned loudly and spread his legs wider in a clear invitation.

Yohji accepted the invitation, shedding the rest of his clothes and settling between Schuldig's thighs to nip and kiss his lips.

"Where's the lube, baby?" Yohji whispered in Schu's ear and tugged on the lobe with his teeth.

"Bed...bedside table!" Schuldig gasped.

Yohji leaned over to take the fat tube from the top drawer and shifted to the telepath's side. He set the tube aside for the moment and slid lower in the bed, urging Schuldig to raise his knees and spread his thighs wider. Yohji pressed wet, open mouthed kisses to the inside of Schuldig's smooth skinned thighs, relishing the trembling he could feel in the long limbs. Yohji took great pride in making his lovers crazy with desire to the point where they would practically beg for release.

He flipped the top on the tube and coated his fingers liberally. Even with his eyes closed Schuldig could feel his intentions and started to pant lightly in anticipation. At the first touch of the cool gel the telepath jumped a little. Yohji kept his eyes on that lovely face, watching every reaction as he gently pushed in his forefinger and twisted it to coat the inner ring edges. By the time he moved to two fingers Schuldig was groaning continuously in pleasure and attempting to impale himself further on Yohji's fingers.

"Sh, baby. Almost ready. It feels good, doesn't it?" Yohji crooned comfort to the writhing man.

When he felt he had heightened every nerve ending, Yohji rose up to settle himself between Schuldig's legs. He positioned himself at the prepared entrance and framed Schu's face with his hands. Yohji brushed back sweat damp bangs and kissed his forehead, nose and flushed lips.

"Open your eyes and watch me, Schu," Yohji commanded.

Schuldig cracked open his heavy lids. He felt leaden and drugged with pleasure. He focused his blue eyes on Yohji's face and widened them as Yohji pushed in with one smooth stroke. There was no pain whatsoever, just a delicious fullness that stroked his soul. Never had Schuldig been taken like that, like he was precious and easily breakable.

"Oh, Yohji," Schuldig breathed.

Yohji smiled and cupped the side of his face, kissing his open mouth and thrusting slowly. Schuldig whimpered in delight and wrapped his legs around Yohji's hips to move with him. The movements grew more hurried and frenzied until Schuldig threw back his head to scream his pleasure in a shattering orgasm without ever having his cock touched. He could only lay panting and dazed as Yohji stroked a few more times then stiffened with a shout and a groan. Rather than roll off immediately as Schuldig expected, Yohji gathered him close and rocked them together while sharing warm, sweet kisses.

Schuldig was exhausted. He didn't want to move at all. Yohji sensed that and eased from his body to fetch a warm cloth from the bathroom and cleaned them both. He started to turn away when a soft hand grasped his arm.

"Stay with me?" Schuldig asked. He looked very young and vulnerable.

"Sure," Yohji answered easily and slipped under the covers. He tucked the telepath's head under his chin and stroked the long hair soothingly. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

Schuldig lay awake long after Yohji fell asleep. He felt a wave of uneasiness pass through him. He was in deep, deep trouble. Tonight he had fallen hopelessly in love. He had watched, enviously, as Crawford and Aya had danced around one another before finally getting it together. Schuldig had sensed the attraction and connection between the two even before they did. So he had watched and teased and taunted and the whole time longed for someone to warm his own bed. He no longer wanted to sleep alone night after night. Schuldig yearned for a lover and a friend. He wanted it to be Yohji, and it scared him to be so vulnerable to one person.

Schuldig rubbed his cheek on Yohji's chest where he could still faintly smell his own scent on Yohji's warm skin. It pleased and soothed him until sleep came. 


	22. Chapter 22

A/N Hmm, no reviews on the last chapter. Have I lost my reader's interest? No matter. My ego can take it and the boys still want their story told.

The flight to Phoenix would have been boring beyond extreme if they had not had the whole of First Class to themselves. Schuldig had also refused to take the travel medication and spent the whole of the trip doing God knows what with Yohji under a tent of blankets. He had to have been using his gift as well because the flight attendants ignored the assorted noises and general childishness emanating from the blanket bunker.

Crawford and Aya fluctuated between mortification and vaguely amused tolerance for their companions. They spent the time in the air responsibly planning the strike on the next target. Crawford believed this minion was higher placed and would have better and more extensive information about Esset's activities. At the airport Yohji, at least, had the grace to look slightly embarrassed over their behavior. Schuldig simply radiated smug pleasure. Aya noticed the telepath kept a proprietary and protective eye on Yohji at all times. It worried Aya and amused him at the same time. He knew Yohji's grief still wasn't healed, but he seemed to be relaxed and happy in Schuldig's company. Perhaps things would be okay. In any case he really wasn't in any position to say much. Yohji had left him alone about his relationship with Crawford.

Without asking anyone's opinion, Crawford checked them into a two bedroom suite in one of the area's luxury hotels. He had foreseen no reason to skulk about in a seedy place while they conducted business, and Crawford did like his creature comforts. He looked as cool and composed as ever in his fine linen suit while Aya and Yohji shucked their long, leather coats as fast as possible once in the rooms.

"You could have mentioned the weather before we left, Crawford," Yohji huffed.

"I would have thought you knew that desert implied hot and dry, Balinese," Crawford returned. "I'm not your travel agent or your keeper."

"And I know sooo much about the geographic weirdness of the United States. Geez, we were slogging through snow just a week ago." Yohji flopped in a chair next to the air conditioning unit. "This is going to make our gear a bitch to wear."

Schuldig took the chair opposite Yohji and handed him a glass of ice water. "You'll be surprised how much it cools down at night, Leibling."

"Sure." Yohji risked a covert glance at Crawford and Aya after Schuldig's endearment. Crawford merely raised an eyebrow and Aya smiled a little. Well, what the hell? It wasn't like Schuldig was the definition of subtle anyway. "Do we know where we're going?"

Crawford set his briefcase on a table and pulled a set of schematics from it.

"I found this location in Jager's laptop and Schuldig was able to confirm it from Deckart's mind. It's hidden in some small hills about a hundred miles north of the city."

"Hidden in a desert?" Aya asked.

"The terrain is very deceptive here, Aya. It's why the government placed a lot of bases out here. Much can be concealed or disguised as something else."

"And what we are looking for is disguised as something else?"

"Possibly," Crawford answered Yohji. "I'm not really sure. Something has changed. Up until an hour ago I could see everything and possible outcomes quite clearly. Now I'm drawing a blank."

"Maybe we should scrap this, then," Schuldig said. He better understood the limits of Crawford's gift and knew this unforeseen circumstance could mean trouble.

"No," Aya said, firmly. "If we leave now, that means all we did was waste time and a good lead."

"But, Aya," Schuldig said. "If Crawford can't 'see' what's coming then it could mean we are being anticipated. Someone could be blocking him, just like I was blocked in Japan."

Aya shrugged. "Weiss never had the assurances of any extra gifts and it never stopped us."

"You're not dealing with petty crime lords and half-mad politicians here, kitty. These are people who wield an unfathomable amount of power. Crawford, tell him." Schuldig turned to his leader.

"He knows and he doesn't care about their power."

"Then you should care, Crawford," Schuldig retorted. "He's your lover and he wants to rush in where he might get himself or all of us killed.

Crawford gave the telepath a look that should have frozen his blood. Schuldig winced, knowing he had brought unwanted attention on his new feelings for Yohji.

"Aya is a member of Schwarz before he is my lover. He knows that and you would do well to remember that fact yourself in the future Schuldig."

Crawford and Aya left to tend their weapons in their bedroom, cleaning and assembling the pieces. Schuldig assembled his own guns then threw himself on the bed. Yohji didn't have to be a telepath himself to know his lover was upset. The compressed thinness of his lips and the tightness around his eyes gave evidence of his distress. Because they were both tactile people, Yohji rolled Schuldig on his stomach and straddled his hips to move his hands in practiced massage over tense shoulder and neck muscles. Yohji's fingers dug deep in the tissue, finding all the knotted stress points and smoothing them until Schuldig's groans of discomfort melted into soft sighs of boneless pleasure. Yohji moved to his side and stroked the bright fall of hair while Schuldig faced him with his head pillowed on his arms. Schuldig's blue eyes fairly glowed with affection but Yohji still notice the shadows behind his eyes.

Still stroking, Schuldig was very cat like in his appreciation of petting, Yohji asked, "What's got you so up tight about this, Schu? You told me you've trusted Crawford for years."

Schuldig curled closer until he could rest his head on Yohji's forearm. He returned the favor by lightly scratching his fingers through Yohji's hair, exploiting his knowledge of all of Yohji's sensitive spots.

"Everything about this feels wrong, Yotan. Aya is out for blood. That's nothing new, but Crawford has never gone through with a job where he was being blocked from seeing the possible outcomes. You and Aya may not understand, but I know, and Crawford knows, that someone quite powerful has moved on the scene. I'm no seer but I can sense the undercurrents in people's thoughts and everything about this screams danger to me."

Schuldig shivered and pressed against Yohji. Yohji gathered him close and almost lost Schuldig's next words in the distraction of the telepath's warm, hard body.

"Pollock himself could be here and I wouldn't know it until it was too late if he has gathered enough people to fuel his talent. I would rather die than let him get his hands on me again," Schuldig said, fiercely, his lips and teeth grazing Yohji's throat.

Yohji rolled them again and pinned Schuldig to the bed. He forced brilliant blue eyes to focus on his own intent face.

"I won't let him have you."

Schuldig snorted a soft, bitter laugh. "If I can't protect myself from him, what makes you think you can, Yohji."

"Have some faith in me, babe. I'm sick and tired of losing lovers to either chance or subterfuge. I may be just a normal human, but I'll fight like hell, and I won't lose you now. You fit me too well."

Warmed and flattered by Yohji's words, if not reassured, Schuldig purred and rubbed his body against his lover's. He radiated with desire of what he wanted."

"Fuck me, Yohji," Schu husked, his voice deepening with lust. "Give me some good memories to cover over the bad ones I can never forget."

Yohji flashed a sensual and alluring smile. "I got no problem with that at all, babe."

In the privacy of their room Crawford watched his lover don his gear and strap on his weapons. There was something erotic about watching his lover who was so sweetly giving in his bed strap on mayhem and draw around himself the cold stillness of murderous intent. He moved to stand before Aya and threaded his fingers through thick, red hair and seemed to memorize every feature of his perfect porcelain skin and lovely lavender eyes. He stroked his thumbs over high cheekbones and thought about the gorgeous flush that stained those cheeks when Aya was in the throes of passion and how his unusual eyes darkened to almost black when he looked at Crawford in a certain way.

Crawford trapped Aya's face in his hands and traced his tongue over the full, plush lips that showed his emotions even when the rest of his face did not. Right now they were thin and tight with concentration and repressed blood lust but gradually softened until Crawford expert and relentless manipulation. Aya kissed back until the other man trembled and drew back with a gasp to hold him still by the shoulders.

"Whatever happens tonight, Aya, I need you to trust in me. No matter what you see or hear you must believe in me. There are talents who can create illusions so realistic that they encompass all your senses. Everything, sight, sound, touch, taste and smell." Crawford stared intently into Aya's face. "So no matter what you must believe in and trust me."

"What's going to happen, Brad?" Aya wrapped his hands around Crawford's wrists. The man didn't try to break his hold but he did shake his head.

"I can't tell you that,"

Aya released him and pushed him away. "You mean you won't," He said, bitterly.

"I mean I can't." Crawford paced in agitation. "But even if I could, I wouldn't. Telling you could change what little I did see."

"Schuldig, your partner for many years, is upset and doubting you right now and you expect me to just follow you blindly?"

"Schuldig may have his doubts but will still follow my orders without hesitation," Crawford said. "But I'm asking for more than that from you. Follow my lead, Aya, but I also need your faith. I will tell you that you are the key variable here. I need your trust or we will fail."

Aya sat so still in contemplation he looked cast from marble, his improbable hair and eyes the only splashes of color. He frowned but kept his own counsel until movement from his lover brought back his attention. He stood before Crawford and looked up the inches necessary to meet his eyes squarely.

"Alright, Brad. I'll believe in you and I'll follow you. Don't let me down," Aya warned in a softly dangerous voice. "I've learned the only person I can ever fully trust is myself. Don't let this be a mistake."

Crawford pulled him into a tight embrace and kissed him hard and hungrily, a hint of desperation in his touch. He devoured and tasted and savored and he trembled, because what he hadn't told Aya was that whatever happened tonight could change things between them forever.


	23. Chapter 23

Crawford pulled Schuldig aside a scant few hours before they were to go hunting their prey. Aya and Yohji exchanged puzzled looks but both shrugged their shoulders and continued checking their gear.

"What?" Schuldig asked impatiently and swiped his hair from his eyes.

"Schuldig, Pollock is here," Crawford said without preamble. He watched as all color drained from the telepath's skin. Even his brilliant hair seemed to lose its vibrancy.

"No," Schuldig whispered. He started to tremble as memories rose unbidden in his mind. He fought to combat them with the more pleasant moments he had had recently with Yohji. "You could be wrong," he said, his voice uncertain.

"I'm not. The only way I can be blocked like this is if Pollock is here. He and the various talents he has drained is the only way powerful enough to block me, the Oracle. I'm the most powerful precog living. You know this."

"Then why aren't we running for the fucking hills instead of straight to him?" Schuldig hissed. He wrapped his arms around himself until his fingers whitened with the tension.

"Because I want this struggle with Pollock ended. I want him dead. I want my team safe. I want to start on a new future that I haven't seen yet. Do you understand?" Crawford stood nose to nose with Schuldig and held his gaze fiercely.

"Alright, I understand," Schuldig answered. "Now tell me what you have been holding back, because I know you have been hiding something since we arrived. What's your god damn awful plan to get to Pollock?"

"We're going to arrive as Schwarz, a team of three, bearing a gift to show our penitence." Crawford said and then closed his mouth firmly on his own doubts.

"Team of three? Gift?" Schuldig echoed. "What could you possibly give them that they might..." Schuldig's eyes widened in horror as he got it. "You fucker! You want to use your own lover as bait!"

Schuldig tried to walk away from his leader and was jerked back. He hissed and writhed and couldn't break Crawford's iron grip.

"Listen to me! It's the only recourse I've been able to see as a viable opportunity." Crawford shook the telepath roughly. "Do you think I like this? Do you think I feel nothing?"

"I think you'll do whatever it takes at whatever cost, Crawford," Schuldig retorted. "You always were a cold-hearted bastard and now you're crossing a line. Does Aya even know anything of this plan?"

"He will when I tell it to all of you, shortly. He's agreed to place his trust in me no matter what happens tonight."

"So what the hell do you want me to do?"

"I want you to block some of his memories, the ones pertaining to the plan. He needs to retain the memory that we are lovers for two reasons. One, so that he will believe the 'betrayal' is absolutely real, and Two, so that you can pull him back. If he doesn't react believably to the betrayal Pollock will never believe my plan. Esset and Pollock in particular were always extremely interested in the Fujimiyas. With the girl out of their reach I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to get Aya."

Schuldig swore various vitriolic German oaths under his breath. He was torn. Three years ago he would have cheerfully done his leader's bidding and gloried in the backwash of torment he caused for the endorphin high. A year ago he might have done it just because he trusted Crawford implicitly. Six months ago he had befriended a former enemy and his whole attitude had changed. Schuldig truly liked Aya. It was even safe to say that he loved the man. Aya had melted his cold as ice exterior and allowed Schuldig into his life. The telepath found the mere thought of endangering Aya abhorrent.

"What about Yohji?" Schuldig asked. "How much is he going to know?" Schuldig had found affection and the attention of an attractive man who knew exactly what and who he was and still wanted to be with him. He didn't want to lose that new and precious rapport over Crawford's crazy as hell plan.

"Even knowing the plan, I expect Balinese is going to react negatively to us handing Aya over to the enemy. You do whatever you have to in order to convince him to cooperate. If it's any consolation, Balinese will do everything possible to protect you, too."

"It doesn't, not really," Schuldig's tone was sour and his eyes miserable.

"But you will do as I say?" Crawford insisted on making sure Schuldig would do his job.

"I'll do it, but if anything happens to him, I don't think I can forgive you. I may even try to kill you."

Crawford's eyes reflected for the first time his own pain and indecision. "If anything happens to him, it won't matter."

That was as close as a declaration of love as Brad Crawford had ever even hinted about any other person. It was enough to ensure Schuldig would do the best job he could to protect Aya from inadvertently giving away the plan. They returned to the others. Yohji immediately noticed Schuldig's pallor and unhappy expression. Disregarding any further thought of discretion he enfolded his lover in his arms and was a little alarmed by the fierceness of the return embrace.

"What is it, baby?" Yohji murmured.

"Crawford will explain," Schuldig choked out and buried his face in Yohji's throat, inhaling deeply of his scent. "Yohji," he whispered. "Pollock is here and we have to face him."

Crawford waited until all eyes were focused on him then outlined his plan of approach. When he came to the part about using Aya as bait, his lover glared at him intensely until the logic of the decision reached him. Ever one to react more to emotion rather than logic, Yohji predictably protested vehemently against it. Schuldig attempted to soothe him.

"No!" Yohji yelled. "Can you guarantee Aya's safety, Crawford?"

"The only protection I can give him is Schuldig's block on his memory of the plan and my presence with him."

"Even Schuldig admits Pollock can defeat him," Yohji pointed out.

"Pollock can drain several talents to contain and injure Schuldig himself because he enjoys it. I don't think he can undo any of Schuldig's work, especially if Aya will agree to give his whole belief and will to Schuldig. Plus, I don't think Pollock will even look for tampering with Aya. He'll be too excited at having acquired such a prize. Arrogance has always been any member of Esset's greatest weakness," Crawford answered.

Aya had been silent through the whole exchange, mulling over Crawford's words and his earlier request to trust him. Crawford turned to him now.

"Will you do this, Aya?" he asked.

Aya raised his head to regard his lover and leader with glowing lavender eyes. Dark shadows of sadness had already begun to ring them.

"You see no other way?"

Crawford shook his head. "Not and have us all survive."

"I'll remember you are my lover?"

"Yes, but you'll believe with all you heart that I have betrayed you. It is that desire for revenge and demand for answers that will enable you to withstand Pollock."

"Then I'll do it, if it's the only way to eliminate this bastard."

Crawford turned to Schuldig and Yohji. "Give us a moment alone."

Yohji guided Schuldig from the main room with a comforting arm around his shoulders and murmured quietly to him, pressing kisses to his bright head.

Alone, Crawford and Aya stared at one another. Aya made the first move, lacing his arms around Crawford's neck and kissing him hard and defiantly. Crawford kissed him back just as passionately, trying to imprint on his body the feel of the man in his arms, trying to lodge in some secure corner of Aya's mind the memory of everything Crawford felt and could express through a kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Aya lifted shimmering eyes to his lover.

"Promise me, Brad, that you can bring me back. Promise me that Schuldig can make things right again." His voice throbbed with suppressed emotion.

Crawford pulled his fingers through the hair at the nape of Aya's neck. "I can promise that we will do everything possible to win and to make you whole again. I don't want to lose you now."

Aya stepped from the embrace and squared his shoulders. "Then, let's do this and get it done. I trust you. I trust Schuldig. Make sure Yohji knows that."

A soft mental call summoned Schuldig and he ushered Aya into his bedroom, shooing Yohji out. His blue eyes were dim and red-rimmed. He cupped Aya's cheek gently.

"I don't want to do this, kitty. You are my friend and I love you, but I will do my very best."

"I want one other thing from you, Schuldig," Aya asked in a hard, unyielding tone.

"Ja?"

"If when this is over, you can't fix what you have to do, promise me that you will either kill me or wipe my memory completely."

"Aya, no!" Schuldig couldn't have been more shocked.

"Yes!" Aya insisted. "I can't bear to think of living as nothing but a vessel for revenge ever again. You and Crawford and Yohji have shown me that I have more to live for. I refuse to live without it. Promise me," he grated between clenched teeth.

Schuldig had to swallow a few time before nodding his head in agreement. "I promise, but I will bring you back. I swear."

With that, Schuldig caught Aya's eyes with his own and threaded his fingers through crimson hair to press their foreheads together. Aya at first stiffened, his mind naturally resisting, then relaxing as he remembered to allow Schuldig to work his gift. Schuldig removed all memory of the real plan and implanted a false plan in it place. Hopefully, no one would ever be the wiser for the change. After a quarter of an hour Aya swayed on his feet and leaned into the telepath's body.

"What happened?" Aya asked, coming to and blinking.

"You must have gotten dizzy, kitten," Schuldig said, his voice revealing nothing. "You haven't eaten all day. Come. Let's grab a bite before we have to leave. We all need our strength."

Schuldig ushered the still woozy man into the main room and sent a telepathic warning to Crawford and Yohji.

/It's done. I hope to God you know what you are doing Crawford./

"I took the liberty of ordering room service. It'll be here any minute and we'll leave in an hour." Crawford said smoothly.

Cold-hearted bastard, Yohji thought. He was having a hard time. Schuldig squeezed his shoulder and managed a shaky smile for him.

/He's not taking this as well as you think, Yotan. Be assured of that. Pollock is a major obstacle and he needs to go down./

Schuldig pressed himself to Yohji's side to hide his nervousness from the rest of the team.

/I won't let him have you, baby./ Yohji thought hard. /Aya either. If I have to die to get my wire around that bastard's neck, that's what I'll do./

/Crawford feels the same. We need to trust in his foresight and the not so small fact that Aya means something to him./

/We'll see/ Yohji replied, darkly.

Luckily, Aya was still too dizzy to notice the rapid fire, silent mental exchanges and the clashing glares between Crawford and Yohji. He concentrated on getting into his mission mind set and went over in his mind the plan he thought would be executed. He even sent a small, sweetly trusting smile to his lover before drawing his cloak of dedicated assassin around himself, unaware he was hurting the silver-haired man.

Crawford pushed at his gift once more, trying for more information to confirm his decision and was met with a blank wall of nothingness. They had no choice but to go forward. 


	24. Chapter 24

Crawford had been right. The desert terrain was deceptive and for men accustomed to the ever present lighting of large cities the darkness was deep and smothering. The stars could be seen in the clear sky but only a tiny sliver of moon was visible. It only provided enough light to make different depths of shadows and was more a hindrance than any help. The four men moved like wraiths through the night, merging effortlessly with the darkness.

The rest of Schwarz had been shocked speechless when Crawford appeared in something other than his usual fine suit. Pitch black fatigues molded to his body and matched the boots and the black forage cap that covered his silver hair. Even his glasses had been exchanged for contact lenses. Aya found the change sexy as all hell and tried to convey that to his lover with a suggestive smile. Even as Abyssinian he could appreciate the toned body under the clothes. His smile faltered, however, and disappeared completely when Crawford only ignored him.

It left Aya feeling somewhat unsettled and confused. He looked to Schuldig to see if the telepath felt odd.

/Stick to the plan, Abyssinian, and everything will be fine./ Schuldig's mental tone contained an unusual strain and he clutched one of Yohji's hands like a lifeline.

Yohji himself looked grim and angry. Further disturbed, Aya tightened his hold on the hilt of his katana and followed Crawford through the night. They had left their rented land rover three quarters of a mile from their target destination. Consulting the handheld GPS he carried, Crawford led them to the mouth of a shallow canyon nearly indistinguishable from the rest of its surroundings. At the very base of the canyon wall a set of heavy steel doors was inset in the stone. Two men guarded the doors looking casual and bored, completely unsuspecting.

Using the link Schuldig had set up between all of Schwarz, Crawford said/Balinese, Abyssinian, take them./

Yohji glared at Crawford then moved silently after Aya. Quiet and deadly, the two easily dispatched the guards and hid the bodies behind some rocks.

Crawford stood before the doors. /Ready/

Aya kept his katana bared, Schuldig and Crawford unholstered their guns, and Yohji stretched a length of wire between his fingers. Schuldig pulled a telepathic cloak over them all to hide them as the steel doors opened easily and they entered a dimly lit passage. It appeared to be an underground bunker of some sort, left over from the days of the first building of atomic weapons. Aya snorted soundlessly. His own countrymen could comment on the futility of avoiding such a blast. He shook his head to dispel his wayward thoughts. Aya didn't know why his mind kept wandering. It wasn't like him not to be able to focus.

As they got closer to the end of the passage Schuldig let loose a low moan of pain and clutched his head. Yohji moved to brace him and shot a questioning look at Crawford. The negative shake of the Oracle's head had Yohji nearly spitting with fury but they continued onwards. Yohji had to wrap an arm around Schuldig who now had blood dripping from his nose and his eyes clenched shut.

Aya took notice of the telepath's state and grasped Crawford's arm to get his attention. His eyes widened in hurt disbelief when Crawford shook him off and pushed him forward with a growl. A single thought circled his mind. What the fuck was going on? The plan Aya remembered wasn't going down well and Crawford acted as if he didn't give a damn.

The passage widened, then opened out into a large room with a balcony circling it on an upper level. As soon as they were all four in the room doors behind them slid shut with a clang and floodlights blinded them. Aya whirled around to see the closed doors then turned back just as swiftly, bringing his katana into a defensive position.

"It seems we have uninvited guests," a voice boomed around them.

By partially shading their eyes with their hands they could just make out the figure of a man with long, black hair draped over his shoulder and clasped with a silver ring. Unseen minions tittered in the background in rote response to the man's mild comment.

Schuldig swiped a hand under his nose to wipe away the blood and tried to straighten from where he was slumped against Yohji.

/Pollock/ he supplied the man's name in shuddering tones.

Aya and Yohji moved to defensive positions behind Crawford with Schuldig shielded behind them.

The floodlights shut off to leave only overhead lighting. Cyril Pollock could be seen more clearly now and his devil's black eyes glittered with malice in his swarthy face. He leaned against the balcony railing and surveyed Schwarz arrogantly.

"Oracle," he sneered. "You always were too brash for my liking and now it seems you are suicidal as well."

"Pollock," Crawford acknowledged. "You know the elders had to die. Their plans were ruining both Esset and Rosenkruz." He surveyed the man's healthy and haughty appearance. "You don't appear to have suffered for their demise."

"No, I can't say I mourned their passing for a second," Pollock said.

"Yet you still hunt Schwarz and what's left of Weiss."

"You've been killing my agents."

Crawford shrugged. "They came for us first."

"I can still kill you now for your betrayal and no one here will raise a hand against me. All are loyal to me. I didn't mind the killing of the elders but I still believe their idea had merit." Pollock threatened. "And I see hiding behind you my favorite telepathic playmate. It's been too long since we had some time together, Schuldig. Have you missed me?"

Schuldig blanked his mind and covered his fear with his most insulting smirk.

"Not hardly."

Pollock's face mottled with rage then he laughed nastily.

"Always so insolent. I tire of this banter. It serves no purpose and will not put off your execution. You came to me, Oracle. Are you so eager to die?"

"I didn't come here to die," Crawford answered. "I came to bargain."

Aya whipped his head towards his leader and lover. That was NOT the plan. What was Crawford doing? His uneasiness grew until it was nearly choking him.

"Bargain?" Pollock echoed. "What could you possibly have that might make me spare your life?"

In a blur of unnatural speed Crawford disarmed his unsuspecting lover and had him pinned with one arm and a gun pushed against his throat. Aya gasped and struggled, his whole body screaming denial of the betrayal.

"Schuldig, hold him!" Crawford barked and Aya could no longer move at all. Crawford grasped a fistful of crimson bangs to jerk Aya's head up where Pollock could see his face clearly. "Do you not recognize him, Pollock? Fujimiya Aya, the brother. If you still wish to bring about the elders' plan this is your only way."

Aya couldn't move, but he could speak.

"You lying bastard! You've been using me and planning this all along. I trusted you!" 

He shut his lips against any further admission, but Pollock used his telepathy to read the rest of the facts from his mind. The man laughed heartily and his voice dripped with disdain.

"So he lured you into being his subordinate then made you his lover? How rich! And you trusted him? How very foolish of you, Abyssinian! I thought you made of sterner stuff than that."

Pollock's words fell like acid on Aya's shredded heart. His soul screamed in agony at yet another failure.

"Yohji," Aya gasped. "Are you in on this, too?"

Yohji turned his face away, unable to make eye contact. He said in a very low, choked voice, "You betrayed me first, Aya, leaving me in the ruins of the academy." The lies burned his throat.

/I'm so sorry, Yohji./ Schuldig said to him on a very tight private telepathic band. /We will make this right. Trust me. I need you, Yohji. I hate seeing you hurt./

"Schu?" Aya questioned.

"Sorry, kitty. I like living too much to die so young."

Finally, "Brad?" Aya's chest tightened with pain.

"You were a good agent, Abyssinian, and a pleasant enough diversion in bed for all your naivete, but you are more useful as a bargaining chip," Crawford said in a frighteningly cold voice.

His pride and heart shattered, Aya didn't resist when Crawford forced him to kneel. He hung his head in abject despair.

"So that's your offer, Oracle?" Pollock asked and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps, yes, perhaps it may be enough to bring Schwarz back into the fold, under my command, of course. Yes, I think I will accept your 'gift'. The last surviving Fujimiya."

The last? Aya's head snapped up as the full horror of that statement hit him. His scream of grief was cut short as Crawford's blow to the base of his neck delivered him into blessed darkness. Yohji and Schuldig stepped forward to lift the limp body as Crawford watched, his face expressionless.

/My God, Crawford. What have you done/ Schuldig's query slipped in under Pollock's telepathic radar.

/What had to be. Now shut the fuck up/

Crawford's grief bled into his mental voice and silenced Schuldig. Schuldig locked eyes with Yohji, each of them trying to convey some hope to the other.

/I'm so sorry, kitty/ Schuldig whispered softly and deftly inserted a kernel of hope deep in Aya's unconcious mind. 


	25. Chapter 25

When consciousness returned Aya couldn't place his surroundings. Not surprising, really, considering that even though he was sure his eyes were open he could see nothing but blackness. He rolled to his side and then to a sitting position. Wary fingers patted the floor around him and came into contact with nothing but concrete, cold and damp. Both his weapons and his leather coat were gone. Aya wrapped his arms around his legs and ground his eyes into his knees to stem frustrated tears.

They had betrayed him, all of them. His teammates, his friends, and his lover had all abandoned him to save themselves. His sister. Aya couldn't even think of her now. Was she dead, alive? He couldn't bear to speculate and focused on his anger instead. Yes. Anger, hate, they stiffened his spine and he stood finally, holding his hands in front to explore his prison. It was a short journey. Roughly six feet by six feet, it was just big enough to lay him flat and small enough to give rise to claustrophobia.

Aya found the door, more cold steel with no handle on the inside. His fury rushed through him and he pounded on the door with both fists until he could feel the slickness of blood flowing from torn, abused skin. He screamed his rage until his voice failed to produce anything but shrill, brittle gasps. Exhausted by the storm, Aya slid down the door to huddle against it, only occasionally smacking his palm on the surface. Damn you, his mind continued the litany. Damn you all to hell if I get free.

Time lost meaning. Aya only knew of its passage from the needs of his body. Fierce thirst strangled him. His stomach knotted with emptiness, but that he could endure. He had often gone days without eating in the past anyway, but the thirst was weakening him. To distract himself Aya brought to mind images of the traitors. Yohji, green eyes dull and milky like flawed jade, turning away from him. Schuldig, cool and insolent, letting go as easily as he had grasped. And Brad. Memory after memory of Brad danced behind his eyes, but in each what he thought he remembered twisted and warped into something different and hateful. Eyes that Aya had thought were warm and expressive he now saw as cold and calculating . Every touch planned and mapped to deceive. Even as his throat burned for water, his ravaged heart burned for revenge against the man who had used him, taken his trust and made it a leash to hand to Pollock.

Schuldig lurched upright from where he had been sleeping fitfully next to Yohji and stumbled to the lavatory to retch miserably. Cool, gentle fingers kept his hair from sliding forward into the bile. Haggard and pale, the telepath slumped against the blonde. Schuldig was worn from using all his strength to maintain his shields against Pollock. The constant bombardment of Aya's thoughts weren't helping, but he couldn't bring himself to sever the link. He had done this to Aya and he would stay open to him.

"Yohji, I think he's going insane."

The fingers in Schuldig's hair trembled and tightened painfully on the long strands. Yohji bowed his head and almost shoved the telepath away.

"No," Yohji said. "Aya's stronger than that."

"He hasn't slept. It's been three days now without food or water. He's locked up in a cell and he hasn't slept."

"Shut up," Yohji mumbled.

"I can hear him, all the time. Everything's twisted and wrong in his head and he believes it."

"I said to shut up!" This time Yohji did pull back from Schuldig, leaving the telepath to clean himself up and eventually return to his side.

In those three days they had been given a room in the complex and left to roam as they would, all the while fully aware they were being watched. Crawford they never saw. Schuldig knew he was alive. The link between them all would have told him otherwise, but his resources were stretching to the limit. His head constantly ached from effort and he dared only to sleep in short snatches when Yohji was awake in case he slipped.  
Schwarz was still mostly intact, but not trusted at all. Schuldig felt minds of varying strength poking at him, Pollock the most frequent. It was only Pollock's restraint in not wasting his resources that Schuldig could fend off his mental attacks. Pollock's use of his gift invariably proved fatal for his, ah, donors.

"I wonder where Crawford is?" Schuldig asked, not really expecting an answer from Yohji but wanting some response from him. He didn't get it, but Yohji sighed and relented to pull the telepath into his arms and rubs soothing hands down his back.

Crawford was figuratively, if not literally, in hell. He was forced to endure Pollock's almost constant company and definitely constant gloating. The Oracle had voluntarily bent his knee to the man and the consequences were nearly costing him the enamel on his teeth from grinding. Worse was the knowledge of Pollock's breaking tactics on Aya. Aya could withstand a great deal of physical punishment, but Crawford knew that Pollock was also messing with his mind. Frequently Pollock would comment on some tidbit of memory he had gleaned from Aya's memory and crow over how he had twisted it.

"I never thought of you as being so vanilla, Crawford," Pollock smirked. "Such seemingly touching and gentle scenes I've seen. You've really not made much use of that pretty morsel."

"It worked, did it not?" Crawford asked blandly, inwardly seething at the invasion.

"Effective, yes. Satisfying? Not to me. No matter. I've changed just about everything. Since he seems to find your betrayal very nearly as devastating as his sister's fate, it's easy to use your time together to weaken him more." Pollock watched Crawford carefully for his reaction. "I suppose you really are to be congratulated for deceiving Abyssinian so well. He's almost broken, you know. Another day at most and he'll be nearly mindless with pain, all mental, and all linked to you."

"Then you will begin?"

"Perhaps. I think, first, I would get some pleasure from him myself. I'm not one to waste an opportunity and Fujimiya intrigues me. I can see why you found it no hardship to seduce him."

Crawford fought and won to keep his face smooth and his voice controlled. His nearly indestructible mental shields kept Pollock from the truth.

"The sister is dead?" he asked to bring the subject back to something he could handle better.

Pollock slid his calculating gaze over him and gauged him. Finally, he said, "Presumed dead. We blew that tacky flower shop to dust molecules hoping to destroy Weiss. It was later I found out the sister was working there." And the failed agents had paid with their lives.

"So you don't know."

"Careful, Oracle," Pollock warned. "Your tone suggests something you might not want to be implying to me. Your team is still under my protection, and I still haven't decided on the fate of the Weiss and Schuldig. Your telepath is fighting hard to hide something from me."

"He hides his fear of you," Crawford answered. "Schuldig is no threat to you and Kudou..." Crawford flicked his fingers negligently. "Kudou is Schuldig's and Schuldig answers to me."

"And you will answer to me." Pollock stepped close to Crawford and leered in his face.

Crawford concealed his disgust. "As you wish."

Pollock's face settled into satisfied lines. He stayed close enough that Crawford could feel the heat of his body.

"Join your team, Oracle. We'll conduct the ritual tomorrow. You may be a bigger prize than Fujimiya. You should be grateful for my continued good graces."

Crawford caught a flash of...something, too quick for him to interpret. It came and went and left an ache in his soul. Rocked to his core, Crawford left Pollock and made his way to the rooms assigned Schwarz. He found Yohji and Schuldig sitting together. Schuldig lifted his head from Yohji's shoulder at Crawford's entrance and wiped away another trickle of blood from his nose.

/Well/ Schuldig's mental voice was a mere whisper of his usual self.

/Tomorrow./

/Good./ Schuldig rested against Yohji again. Dark circles now smudged the skin under his eyes. /I want Aya back and I want to go home./ He sounded young and fragile.

Crawford kept silent, his nails digging into his palms.

/Crawford/ Schuldig asked in rising alarm.

/I can't see it./ Crawford admitted. /It's up to Aya now./

Down in the concrete vault, Aya's mind was a blaze of static and pain. His thoughts had narrowed down to one, and Schuldig could no longer hear him. Vengeance. 


	26. Chapter 26

The door to Aya's concrete cell opened and Cyril Pollock paused to observe the man inside crouched on the floor. Wide purple eyes stared blankly back at him. His telepathy telling him what he wanted to know, Pollock confidently approached Aya. He signaled to two men behind him to haul the redhead to his feet and reached up a hand to hold Aya's head in place.

Although Aya's face remained perfectly smooth his mind roiled with static, anguish and emotional pain. No coherent or rational thoughts were present. Pollock grinned evilly. Aya was perfect. A Fujimiya born with whatever bizarre genes his sister possessed that kept her in perfect stasis during her coma, Aya was like a new, sleek, top of the line sports car. The motor of his mind continued to run, but no one was behind the wheel. With seemingly no reason to fear Pollock turned his back on Aya and motioned to the two men to follow him with their captive. Aya put up no resistance and walked like an automaton behind Pollock. The guards each kept tight grasp of an arm in case his pliancy was an act. Pollock knew it wasn't. Fujimiya Aya, the Abyssinian, had been reduced to this shade that barely qualified as a living being.

Pollock led the way into an ancient rocky chamber that was deep in the bowels of the man made bunker. Neither he nor anyone else knew the origin of the chamber, but for a sensitive it buzzed and bubbled with an old, dark and dangerous power. In the center of the room was a stone altar. Pollock led Aya straight to the altar and looked around the room at his gathered minions and what remained of Schwarz. Crawford returned the gaze impassively while a pale and distressed Schuldig leaned heavily against Yohji and didn't notice Pollock at all.

The telepath only had eyes for Aya. His own narrowed in concentration as he used his gift as subtlely as possible to probe at his teammate. Schuldig had nearly had a frantic meltdown during the night when he realized he could no longer hear Aya. The new day was no different. Aya's mind was nothing more than a looped litany of hatred and revenge. Schuldig couldn't recognize any pieces of Aya's original personality and he swallowed against fear induced nausea.

/Bring him out of it, Schuldig/ Crawford demanded.

Pollock had lain an unresisting Aya on the altar and was beginning to intone the esoteric phrases to begin the summoning ritual. An unsheathed dagger gleamed in his right hand and as he built up his power he seemed to grow larger in mass. Schuldig took advantage of the distraction to try and break through the rancid veil that covered Aya's thoughts. He poured on more and even more effort. Blood went from dripping to make a steady stream from his nose to his chin. Schuldig's head pounded with pain and he shook like a leaf and still couldn't break through the barriers. He subsided against Yohji, panting for air and struggling to stay on his feet.

/I can't/ Schuldig's fear and frustration leaked into his mental voice. /Crawford, I can't reach him. It's like he's not there anymore, just a body that's breathing./

Crawford bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. His fingers ached to snatch someone's weapon and start firing at everything, but he knew he had to remain inconspicuous. Enough attention was being directed their way from the despairing state of Schuldig. More than halfway through the ritual, only Pollock remained oblivious to anything but his plan. Cold winds from nowhere whipped through the chamber and a steady murmuring of fear rose from Pollock's minions.

/Crawford! What do we do next/

/We wait for Aya./

Come on, Aya, Crawford sent to his lover. I know you're still in there. Break free and strike back!

Pollock brought the knife down in a savagely fast motion, cutting through Aya's shirt and deeply scoring the flesh and still Aya didn't move. Pollock turned loose his gift and started leeching power from his followers to increase his own. Words from a language not known to modern man poured from his lips. His evil countenance glowed with an unholy light as he gorged himself on power. One by one, several men and women dropped dead after being sucked dry of both their gifts and their life force.

Just before Pollock could say the final phrases of the summoning, two black gloved hands disarmed him and had him by the throat. Insane violet eyes once again registered awareness and burned with hatred towards the man struggling in an iron grip.

"No!" Aya snarled. "I will not be your vessel. I will not be your toy and I damned sure will not be your God." He tightened his grip and dug his fingers into Pollock's flesh. "I will be your executioner and you will only be the first to die."

/Now/ Crawford yelled through the link and stole the nearest weapon, mowing down any person who was not Schwarz.

Bedlam ensued. It was every man for himself. Having watched Pollock sacrifice several of their compatriots, the talents abandoned him to try and save their own skins. Bullets and blades rained deadly hail on the room. Crawford shot and ducked, trying to make his way to Aya. He couldn't get any closer. Panicked people rushed for the single exit in a doomed lemming tide.

/Balinese, cover Mastermind/ Crawford shouted. /He needs to get close enough to touch Aya./

Schuldig found guns for himself and followed his leader's example. Yohji snapped out his wire over and over as fast as he could, his face a rictus of terror and rage. In the center of the room Aya crushed Pollock's throat. Blood pumped from the man's destroyed neck to stain Aya's glove and arm. Aya screamed his sister's name and ripped out the black haired man's trachea. He threw the dead man to the floor and wrenched the dagger from a death grip to stab and slash, nearly mindless again with his pursuit of vengeance.

Within minutes Pollock and all the talents who had followed him were dead and nothing more than cooling corpses. The chamber reeked of blood and adrenaline. Still lost in a murderous haze, Aya ran the length of the room to attack Crawford in retribution for betrayal. Schuldig and Yohji raced to stop him. Using his last reserve of strength, Schuldig tackled his teammate and set his bare hand against Aya's face. The two redheads writhed and hissed like snakes on the floor. Neither Yohji or Crawford could intervene without hurting one or the other.

Screaming in agony, Schuldig broke through the cesspool of deceit created by Pollock to touch Aya's innermost psyche. He latched onto the small suggestion of hope and truth he had left in Aya's mind and stroked it to life. Aya's struggles weakened and intelligence seeped back into his eyes. Giving a final push, Schuldig restored Aya's memory and slumped unconscious on the floor. Yohji picked up the unresponsive telepath as Aya gained his feet and faced Crawford.

Both men were gasping with exertion and eyed each other warily.

"My sister," Aya began, his face twisting with pain. He swayed unsteadily on shaky legs, pain, fear and grief radiating from him.

"We don't know," Crawford said quietly in a voice meant to calm.

"Not fucking good enough!" Aya screamed and punched Crawford in the mouth. "Are you pleased with yourself, Crawford? Have I exceeded your expectations?"

Dodging more punches, Crawford said, "We won, Aya. You won."

Aya let his fists fall to his sides and looked at his leader and his team. Yohji held an unconscious Schuldig in his arms. He looked haggard and pale himself, blood spattered over his entire body. Even with his memory restored Aya looked ready to attack Crawford again. His heart thundered with panic for his sister. His stunned gaze catalogued all the dead bodies cluttering a room that now resembled an abattoir. The physical neglect of three days caught up with him and Aya wilted into despair.

"We won," Aya mumbled and flinched away from Crawford's reaching hand. "We won nothing."

Aya pitched forward, Crawford just managing to catch him before his head hit the floor. Yohji gasped and clutched Schuldig tighter to himself as Crawford picked up his lover.

"God, Crawford! Will he ever be the same again? Will either of them ever be the same?" Yohji asked.

"We've got to get them out of here, Balinese," Crawford said and ignored the questions. "The fight here is over. For now we need to get back to the city."

"Then what?" Yohji was angry and worried. He was even more angered by Crawford's calm.

"We wait for them to wake, and while we wait I'll try to find out about Aya's sister from my contacts in Japan."

The two men searched for their confiscated weapons and, after finding them displayed like trophies in Pollock's area of the underground bunker, carried their burdens back into the desert. The Oracle's heart was heavier than the man he carried. He couldn't forget Aya's face when his lover confronted him. Despite having the knowledge of their plan revealed by Schuldig, Aya had looked at him with bitterness and utter loathing in his eyes. 


	27. Chapter 27

It was a neat trick and a damned near impossible one to get four blood-caked men back inside a five star hotel, especially with two of them looking dead, and most especially because the one who could be the most help was one of the two. Crawford was literally growling deep and menacingly under his breath and seething with the urge to shoot someone else. Yohji was worried for his teammates, frazzled and wary around Crawford who was behaving much less than his cool, composed self, and craving a smoke so badly he was jittering in the dark.

They lingered in the shadows with their grisly burdens until finally some lazy employees had propped the doors of the loading dock with a wedge and wandered off to smoke. Crawford and Yohji dashed inside, and using Crawford's second by second precognition, managed to use the service elevators to get back to their suite. Crawford gently lay Aya on the chaise in their bedroom and immediately put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the suite door. 

"Balinese, come here," Crawford ordered. He brought a large white tackle box with a familiar red cross on it from his largest suitcase. Inside was not only basic first aid, but the supplies to create a miniature field hospital. "Once we get them bathed they need to be hooked to some IV solutions. It's a definite that Aya is suffering badly from dehydration and Schuldig is, too, along with some blood loss. We can't do anything about that and it's a good thing neither lost much, but we can start them on the fluids."

"I, er, I've never.." Yohji, experienced assassin, blanched when Crawford held up the seemingly huge needles.

Crawford sighed. "Never mind, I'll do it. Just get Schuldig cleaned first. Take him in the shower with you and dress him in just the hotel robe."

Yohji carefully and gently stripped the telepath of his bloodied clothing and quickly undressed himself. He turned the shower on and waited for the temperature to warm while trying to finger comb some of the tangles from Schuldig's long hair. Stepping into the large enclosure, he was grateful the shower had a built in bench and the head was detachable. Handling the telepath was like washing a life size, boneless doll. More than once he nearly lost his grip on a soap slippery arm or shoulder. Schuldig hadn't eaten much during their enforced stay at the desert compound and what he did manage to eat rarely stayed down. Yohji could distinctly feel each rib and the jut of hip and collar bones. It made him wonder what kind of shape Aya was in if Schuldig looked so emaciated.

Crawford could have told him had he been able to manage words. Snarling continuously under his breath, the Oracle bathed his limp lover and examined the deep, gashed cross that Pollock had scored into Aya's chest and abdomen. It had bled copiously and would scar, but thankfully the blade had never punched deep enough to pierce the innards. Fastidious as his lover, Crawford was furious over the circumstances Aya had been forced to endure. His crimson hair was so dirty and greasy it resembled old blood and his soft breaths were tainted with the fetid, rotted smell of one close to death by dehydration. There was blood caked beneath Aya's fingernails from Pollock's throat and evidence of self-inflicted damage to his hands once Crawford managed to peel the dried, stiff gloves off.

Crawford finished the bathing and bundled Aya into a robe to attend his wounds. There was no help for it. The gashed cross would have to be stitched and apparently Yohji was no hand with a needle. Although he didn't think the man would wake, Crawford smeared some numbing ointment on the clean edges of the wound and set to work. By the time he was finished he was trembling with fatigue and his contact lenses felt welded to his eyes. He would have to take them out and replace his glasses if he wanted any hope of correctly accessing veins for the fluids.

"Yohji," Crawford raised his voice in summons. "Bring Schuldig in here and put him on the other side of Aya." At Yohji's raised eyebrow he continued. "They will need to be watched constantly and it will be easier for you if they are together."

"Where are you going?" Yohji asked.

"After I set them up on the fluids I'm going to get us some supplies, food and medical. We may be here a day or two until I can arrange for a private ambulance and plane to take us back to New York."

"Is it safe to return to New York?"

"A good question and another I will have answered before we leave. Now stop with the questions and assist me so I can get them set up."

Crawford put tourniquets on two thin pale arms and readied his supplies. Even with the dehydration he was able to find some decent veins easily enough, they were usually very healthy men, after all. Crawford made a noise of slightly amused disgust each time he sunk a needle home and Yohji had to look away.

"And you kill people for a living?" Crawford sneered.

"Piss off, Crawford. This is different, and I didn't exactly see you carrying Aya in here slung over your shoulder or dragging behind you. You're not so hard-assed as you would have me believe."

Yohji stopped himself with a gulp. Crawford's eyes had narrowed to deadly slits of golden fury and his replaced glasses flashed eerily in the bright light of the room. It was enough to remind Yohji how coolly and remorselessly Crawford could kill a target even if they were begging on their knees. It was also foolish of him to taunt Crawford over his gentleness with Aya. Even if Crawford felt some tender concern for his lover it certainly didn't mean it would extend to Yohji. Yohji backed down from his leader's alpha stance.

"Saaa, never mind. Our bickering doesn't help them. Do you need me anymore right now or can I go on the balcony for a smoke while you finish?"

Crawford gave his consent with a sharp nod. "Close the balcony doors and stay in the shadows. We're up pretty high, but anything's possible. Stay unseen until we can leave."

Yohji hurried off to his nicotine craving in hopes it would settle his nerves. He seriously doubted Crawford would let him have a drink and if he was this paranoid, Yohji's smoke breaks would be few and far between. Yohji lit up after carefully closing the door behind himself and took a deep drag. He rolled the slim stick between scarred fingertips and exhaled slowly while examining the glowing tip.

"Man, Aya, Schu, you two need to wake up in a hurry," Yohji mumbled to himself. "So we can all escape this nightmare. And it's still not over." Yohji's heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the thought of Aya's sister dead. She had been completely innocent and, Gods, what if she was really dead? What would it do to Aya? "Fuck." Yohji hissed.

He worried, too, for the sanity of his own lover who had been buried in Aya's head for days, too guilt-ridden to let Aya suffer alone. Would knowledge of his greatest tormentor's death be enough to shore up Schuldig's previous boundless confidence in his skills? Would he be able to help Aya? Although he was no telepath and he knew Schuldig had restored Aya's memory of the place, he didn't think Schu had had the time to correct any of the changes Pollock had made to Aya's memories. That much was apparent from the way Aya had almost attacked Crawford a second time before he lost consciousness.

Yohji shook his blond locks. Damn, but this mission had been costly. He smoked two more cigarettes before Crawford rapped on the glass door to bring him inside. Crawford looked more composed and even handed Yohji a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ushering him back to the bedroom where chairs had been drawn up to both sides of the large bed. Both redheads lay there, unresponsive, and looking very childlike with their narrow faces, pale skins and slender forms tucked in the voluminous hotel robes. Yohji's eyes traced over the collapsible IV poles holding the bags of fluids, down the lines to where the access cannula disappeared beneath fair skin. Both arms being used were strapped straight to a plastic, inflexible board to protect the sites.

"I'm going to get some more supplies," Crawford said, pulling on a nondescript coat over his clothes. It nicely covered the gun in a shoulder holster and allowed him easy access. "If Schuldig should wake up, try to keep him calm and soothe him as best you can. If he can't shield and can't be managed, inject one of those pink syringes of sedatives into his IV port. It will last for a couple of hours. Each time he comes around assess him again for his mental stability and strength."

"Okay," Yohji filed that away. "And Aya?"

It could have been Yohji's tired imagination but he almost thought he saw apprehension flicker over the Oracle's face before he answered.

"Use the blue syringes and inject one into his port slowly over a minute every three hours on the hour. Do you understand, Balinese?"

"Hai, you want to keep him asleep for now, but why?"

Crawford let his eyes trace the form of his lover then flick back to Yohji. Even in his exhausted and drugged sleep, Aya was frowning and looked stressed.

"Aya will not be satisfied until he has some answers. He will not rest or give himself time to recuperate before setting out to find them. I don't think he would listen rationally to any of us right now, especially me." Crawford faltered a little. "I will try to find out what I can before I wake him then help him deal with whatever answers and facts we receive."

Yohji felt a little unwanted pity for the Oracle.

"When you planned this you didn't see everything, did you? You didn't see anything about Aya's sister or the extent of the damage to Aya."

Crawford was silent and glaring for so long Yohji thought he would leave without answering.

"No," Crawford finally said in a low voice. "I did not see everything. I did not know about the sister and I did not know the measures Pollock would use against Aya to break him. I didn't know what it would do to us," Crawford finished to himself and almost too softly to hear.

Yohji wanted one more clarification.

"And if you had, would you still have proceeded as we planned.?"

"Yes, Balinese," Crawford snapped his head up and answered without hesitation. "There was no other way."

"Well then," Yohji said as he escorted Crawford to the door. He gave the impression of swearing fealty to his leader. "We continue as we should go on and take care of our own. I'll do what I can here until you return."

Crawford appraised this serious, steady version of Yohji with a twitch of his eyebrow.

"You have the number of my cell. If anyone comes to the door but me, the game is over. Kill them and try to save our team...Yohji"

"Just hurry back, Crawford. I'm not much of a nurse." 


	28. Chapter 28

Barely an hour after Crawford left Schuldig started making noises like he was going to wake, only he didn't wake. Instead of regaining conscioiusness he seemed to be stuck in the throes of a terrible nightmare. Yohji skidded across the room and dropped to his knees by the bed and enveloped the telepath in a warm embrace. Being careful of the IV line, Yohji wrapped his arms tightly around Schuldig and stroked his flaming orange hair while reassuring him in a calm, measured voice. He pressed light kisses to Schuldig's closed eyes and cheeks, rubbing his lips along the cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. 

It seemed to work for a while and Yohji was able to doze with Schuldig lying over top of him until his watch alarm let him know that it was time for Aya's sedative. With a groan Yohji levered up his tired body and gently repositioned Schuldig before rounding the bed to pick up the blue syringe on the table. He really hated doing this. It was seriously going behind Aya's back, but Yohji knew Crawford was right. If Aya were awake he would already have left them all behind in pursuit of the truth about his sister, and his weakened condition would make him very vulnerable. Yohji readied the syringe bacause time was ticking away and Aya was twitching and frowning more heavily in his sleep. Yohji counted the sixty seconds to get the medicine on board and watched as Aya's face smoothed out little. Not completely peaceful, but better.

Yohji hazarded a trip to the kitchen to snatch another cup of coffee. A muffled crash brought him running back. Schuldig was sitting up and pawing ineffectually at the IV board restraining his arm. Desperate whimpers worked to remain in the confines of his throat.

"Hey, hey, babe. Calm down. You're okay. I'm here and you need to leave that alone. It's making you better," Yohji spoke softly like one might to a child or a frghtened animal. Right now, Schuldig seemed both.

Yohji righted the IV pole and settled next to Schuldig, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"Yohji?" Schuldig shook his head and raised a hand to his aching head.

"I'm here, babe. Aya is behind you and Crawford has gone for supplies."

Schuldig subsided against Yohji and twisted a great handful of his shirt. "Pollock?" he asked in a whisper.

Yohji tilted his chin up to make eye contact. "Very, very dead, baby. Aya got him and we got everyone else."

"Aya...something's wrong with Aya. He feels...I don't know, Yohji."

Yohji heard the rising hysteria in Schuldig's voice and tried to quiet him, stoking and running soothing hands down his back.

"Aya is heavily sedated, Schuldig. I imagine he feels muzzy and far away to you. Am I right? Talk to me, baby."

"Yes," Schuldig mumbled. "He feels far away." His delicate features screwed up into a pained grimace. "But everyone else is loud, too loud. Yohji, I can't keep them out!"

"Shh, baby. Calm down. You're just overtired and stressed. Crawford told me and you trust him, right?"

"Trust you, too," Schuldig said and burrowed into Yohji's side.

"Good. Good. Then you'll trust me when I say you need to rest some more. I'm going to give you some of the medicine that Crawford left for you."

Yohji's hand inched for the syringe, keeping a wary eye on his lover in case the telepath panicked and had other ideas. Schuldig only pressed himself tighter to Yohji and offered his arm. The sedative was quick and his next words were slurred.

"Stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I may have to get up to do things for Aya, medicine, check his bandages, but I'll always return."

"Good," Schuldig's voice was fading. "Need you, Yohji."

Yohji felt a warmth suffuse his limbs and he settled himself in the middle of the bed with a hand on each man. Aya lay stiff and unmoving, but Schuldig twined his legs around Yohji like kudzu and burrowed into his side before settling with a relieved sigh. Yohji dozed some more, medicating Aya when his watch alarm sounded. Schu remained content to sleep and wake at intervals and stayed focused as long as he was plastered against Yohji.

Hours later Yohji heard the slide and click of the suite door opening. He slid to the end of the bed and crept to the bedroom door with his wire ready.

"Yohji?"

Shit. It was Crawford. Yohji let his wire snap back into the watch and raked hands through his disheveled hair.

"Any changes?"

"Schuldig woke up and only had to be sedated once. He just sleeping now. Aya twitched continuously but never woke. His next dose is due in a hour," Yohji said. "I don't suppose you got anything good in those bags?"

Crawford laid out a hearty meal for three on the small dining table and took a new bag of medical supplies in the bedroom. Schuldig was awake and watching with half closed eyes.

"Schuldig, do you feel like you can eat and drink something?"

Schu swallowed a few times but finally rasped out, "Ja."

"Good." Crawford disconnected the IV, leaving the cannula in place and wrapping the arm in gauze. "Yohji, help him into the dining area. I'll be there shortly."

After Yohji helped the weak and stumbling telepath into the other room, Crawford changed the bag on the IV fluids on Aya's stand. He rubbed the chilled arms and pulled the robe tighter around the still form. With no one watching Crawford brushed back soft crimson bangs and pressed a kiss to Aya's forehead and dipped lower to brush their lips together.

In the dining area, Yohji helped Schuldig hold a cup of soup to his lips. Crawford cast an appraising eye over his telepath. Schuldig looked better. The fluids and the rest had done a good bit toward restoring the man to his usual self. Crawford guessed that Yohji had reminded Schuldig of Pollock's fate as the edge of carefully concealed fear was gone from his eyes. Now he looked like he was just recovering from a bad flu or something. Good. It would be easier having three ambulatory agents when it came time to leave.

"I'll be good to go, Crawford," Schuldig croaked out between sips.

"Don't strain trying to read me, Schuldig," Crawford admonished.

"M'not. You just have that look in your eyes. I'm down, not out."

"Of course, you're not," Yohji said, smiling encouragingly at his lover, then glaring significantly at Crawford. Was is just fucking impossible for the man to bend a little and try being human instead of just issuing orders? "Food, sleep and another shower, in that order, and you'll be as good as new."

Crawford ignored Yohji to serve himself a meal. If Yohji wanted to baby a grown man, an assassin no less, then that was his business as long as it didn't interfere with Crawford's plans. His next comment was directed to the blonde.

"I left word for Persia to contact my cell."

Yohji abruptly set down his fork. "What the hell for?"

"If anyone knows if Aya's sister is alive or dead, it would be Persia."

"Don't you think he would have tried to contact Aya if his sister was killed?"

"What do you think, Balinese, considering the 'protection' provided you and your wife?"

Yohji looked away, his expression gone dark and angry. Schuldig roused himself to place a hand on Yohji's thigh and squeezed. Yohji took a deep, cleansing breath and faced Crawford again.

"So, you find out anything good?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. The house in New York is still intact, and the people I had watching it tell me that there's been no activity. It should be safe to return to it. We can hole up there while waiting for word from Japan. I've arranged for an ambulance to take us to the airport in the morning. A private jet will take us home and we'll be met there for another ride home."

"Do you plan on keeping Aya drugged the whole time?" Schuldig asked.

Crawford bristled. "Given what we know and what we don't know, I think it's best for now."

"He may not forgive you for that, Crawford," Schuldig pointed out softly.

"He may not forgive me anyway, so there's no point in worrying about another chalk mark on the negative side of the board," Crawford retorted, his eyes dark and unreadable. "At least the worst of the physical damage can be healed while he sleeps."

Yohji grunted a response, whether in approval or disapproval, Crawford really didn't give a fuck. The three of them finished their meal. Schuldig was able to eat and drink a sufficient amount and keep it down so Crawford removed the cannula from his arm and smoothed a bandage over the tiny hole.

"You can go back to your own bedroom for the night. I'll take care of Aya."

Yohji started to protest but something in the set of Crawford's jaw bespoke the need for privacy. He gently ushered Schuldig into their bedroom and tucked the telepath into bed, shedding his own clothes and getting in on his side of the bed. Schuldig pressed into his side and wrapped an arm over his chest, still needing the reassurance of Yohji's closeness. Yohji's body responded to the slide of soft skin over his own and growled at his crotch for its inappropriate sense of timing. Schuldig snickered into his shoulder.

"You're arguing with your dick?"

"Yeah, and it's a stubborn bastard. Your fault for being such a sexy thing."

Schuldig laughed some more. "Much as I appreciate the, ah, compliment I'm not up for anything right now."

"I know that. Tell it to the brainless divining rod down there."

Still snickering, they both relaxed into sleep.

Crawford stood in the doorway looking at the redhead on the bed. Aya was twitching and moaning barely coherent pleas in his drugged sleep. It really wasn't pleasant knowing that he was keeping Aya trapped in his nightmares, but damn it all, he didn't have a choice. Slightly shaking hands prepared the next syringe when violet eyes popped open to glare at him accusingly. Crawford injected the drug and watched with relief as those angry and accusing eyes glazed over then closed. He'd have to be more timely with the medication if he expected to keep Aya under until they got home.

Crawford lay down on the bed and tried to rest. Even in sleep, Aya was rejecting him and twitched away every time their arms brushed. Crawford gave it up after a few minutes and pulled the chaise closer to the bed to sleep on it. He set the alarm on his watch and folded his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling.

God damn Pollock to everlasting hell for tampering with Aya's memories of Crawford. Even dead the bastard was still making trouble for him. Crawford wondered if Schuldig would be able to help or if Aya would even allow him to try now that he believed his trust had been used against him. Crawford wanted to resurrect Pollock and kill him again and again for each time the man had mocked a particular memory and grinned with evil delight as he informed Crawford of the changes he had twisted into it. 


	29. Chapter 29

Home. Schuldig wanted to drop to his knees in the driveway and scrape up handfuls of asphalt to hug. He wanted to roll in the overgrown wet grass and scrub his face in the muddy flowerbeds. Then he wanted to somehow make it inside up the stairs to HIS bathroom and soak in HIS tub before flopping bonelessly on his back in HIS bed. He wanted Yohji to drop whatever he was doing and join him there and fuck him senseless so he wouldn't have to think about his teammate in the next room drugged to his eyeballs without even knowing he was waiting for a cell phone to ring.

Schuldig didn't want to think. He didn't want to hear anyone else's thoughts and he particularly didn't want to hear Aya's brain on repeat anymore. If Crawford didn't wake up Aya soon Schuldig was going to take the decision from him if only to preserve what was left of his own sanity. He KNEW, yes, he knew that this was only making the situation worse in Aya's mind. Trapping him in his own body. Schuldig knew because, despite all the damned drugs, some part of Aya's mind was aware and it was furious.

Schuldig remembered a book that Crawford had shoved into his hands years ago to shut up his whines of boredom on a long trip. It was a bizarre book and dealt with the future and humans breeding and crossbreeding to develop extraordinary mind powers to replace accursed machines. The book resonated for Schuldig in a way because all the normal humans who partook of the substances to enhance themselves either eventually went mad or destroyed themselves because they couldn't handle the TRUTH. But one line from that book circled his fevered brain during the stressful strip home. It was a young man's anguished howl that the sleeper had awakened.

Aya was their sleeper and Schuldig knew, without a doubt, that when he awakened there would be hell to pay. He tried to tell Crawford, but the Oracle acted as if he hadn't heard, so deep was he in trying to part the mists of the future. Because a cell phone still had not rung, Crawford was pushing, hell, he was using a battering ram, against his own gift in an effort to force a vision of the future. He was so focused on trying to see the future Schuldig couldn't make him see and understand the now. Yohji understood better and he had no supersensory gifts at all, at least nothing apparent.

So Schuldig kept his silence, let his leader and his lover think he was quiet for once from sheer fatigue. Crawford left him to his rest, and Yohji, sweet worried Yohji, gave him space but stayed within earshot. Schuldig waited until both men were occupied with other necessary tasks then he crept into Aya's room where the man lay in cognitive twilight, not asleep, but not quite conscious. The fear and fury Schuldig felt made his knees buckle but he climbed onto the bed overtop the other redhead and pulled him into his arms to press their foreheads together.

Schuldig was appalled. When he had wrestled Aya to the ground there hadn't been time to roam. Then it was strike fast, strike hard in a desperate situation to try and jolt Aya's memory. Now, with time at hand, for in the inner space of the mind time has no meaning, Schuldig could see and feel the destruction wrought by Pollock. The man had been a busy little fucker and probably hadn't slept either during the three days of Aya's confinement to have twisted so much. Where Aya's inner space had before been a tidy light gray area with some dark smudges representing old slights and pains and bright, glowing areas of good memories there was a thick, oily darkness that simmered and bubbled. The area where memories of Aya's sister should have been was completely empty. Schuldig guessed that was Aya's subconscious at work, trying to protect himself from suggestion that she might be dead.

Schuldig reached out to touch a swathe of red that he knew represented himself. He made the mistake of grasping tightly and jumped away holding his injured hand to his chest. That...thing that was Aya's impression of Schuldig now had both burnt him and cut him to the quick with razor edges. Schuldig wanted to stomp it out forever because it meant perceived betrayal, but he could just indiscriminately remove parts of Aya's memories. Aya would feel the loss and perhaps think of it as yet more betrayal and manipulation.

Further into the inner space Schuldig faced another swathe in his path, this one a cool green. It looked safe and comforting, but when he touched it the absolute coldness streaked up his arm to drive a spike of ice into his heart. Yohji, then, or to be more precise how Aya remembered Yohji in the desert compound. Schuldig hissed in pain and kept going. He had to know the full extent before Aya was fully free of the drugs. Deeper, closer to Aya's inner core was the darkest, blackest, most painful area. It surrounded and alternately burned and chilled. It was filled with the sound of barely audible high-pitched shrieking. Occasionally low moans of despair emanated from the morass, and Schuldig watched as another layer of ice grew in a thick coating to smother each time a moan tried to be heard. Gods, this had to be all that was left of Aya's memories of Crawford, this painful, pitiful, defeated collection of humiliated despair that was growing larger as it was being fed by and morphing into a boiling core of rage.

Schuldig started backing out of Aya's mind, terribly afraid that they were too late, that even if Aya's sister was found alive it would make no difference in Aya's desire for revenge. Most of Aya's time with Schwarz had been twisted into an illusion of duplicity and degradation, the truth brutally warped into crime. Before leaving Schuldig searched frantically for the bud of hope he had planted in the beginning. It was still there, almost unrecognizable, but still trying to exist. Schuldig focused all the positive energy, warmth and love as he could summon into it. It was all he could do at the moment. Perhaps it would be enough and when Aya awoke he might listen.

"What the fuck are you doing, Schuldig?!" Rough hands jerked him back into his body then shook him furiously. 

Schuldig was tired, so damned tired, and not in the mood for Crawford's shit. Here he was doing what he could to gauge and look for ways to repair the damage to Aya's memory and Crawford was shaking him like a bad dog for getting on the bed. He got a grip on Crawford's wrists and with his own strength pried the man's hands from his shoulders. He saw Yohji hovering on the threshold of the doorway, unsure of who needed protecting. Schuldig smiled softly at him to let him know he was okay then he turned to where Crawford was still arrogantly waiting for an answer.

"You know what I was doing, Crawford. You, of all people, know what I can do. I took a trip down Aya's memory lane without even a fucking roadmap to show me what used to be there. Do you want to know what I found? I'll even let you feel it so you can know firsthand what your lover is going through, but first I'm going to tell you that you have to wake him up today. Not Tomorrow. Not when that phone rings. Because every hour you keep him trapped there is making it worse and it's already hellish." Schuldig flipped his hair to his back. "Will you wake Sleeping Beauty up and take the punches?'

"Yes," Crawford hissed, his face tight and controlled.

"Fine," With that Schuldig shoved the entire experience from his head to Crawford's. A pained and horrified sound that Schuldig had never heard before from the Oracle burst from the man's lips and Crawford fell to his knees with his face covered by both hands. His whole body tensed and writhed with pain and grief.

Drawing gasping breaths, Crawford ground out the words, "Get. Out. Now. Leave us and I'll do it."

"We'll be just outside," Schuldig said softly, sympathetically, and pushed Yohji ahead of him to close the door.

It was several minutes before Crawford could find the strength to stand and walk to the bed. He brushed trembling fingers over the pale face and silky hair. A light touch lingered briefly on the utter smoothness of Aya's cheek. Crawford wiped tears of reaction from his face and pulled a single syringe from this pocket. Schuldig was right. He had seen it and not wanted to acknowledge it. There was no physical reason to keep Aya asleep any longer.

Crawford disconnected the IV fluids and injected the drug reversal slowly into the access port. Within minutes Aya was stirring, murmuring and moving towards awareness. Crawford sat unmoving on the bed, waiting. Violet eyes cracked open and blinked a few times uncertainly before focusing on the man beside him. For a split second the corners of Aya's lips lifted, Crawford was sure, in a welcoming smile before that lovely face hardened, the eyes sharpened into glittering gems and Aya lurched up to grab Crawford by the collar.

"You!" Aya snarled. 


	30. Chapter 30

"You bastard!" Aya snarled more viciously. "You drugged me. You had no right!"

Still in Aya's grip, Crawford replied calmly, "I had every right as your team leader to make sure you didn't injure yourself more in blind vengeance."

Crawford pried Aya's hands loose from his collar and tried to hold them. Aya wrenched away from him with a growl. Crawford set his jaw and let him go. He wouldn't force his touch on his lover when it was so obviously not wanted. God damn Pollock! Aya watched Crawford warily from beneath his fall of bangs. Pained emotions and uncertainty flickered over his face.

"My sister?" Aya asked.

"Still waiting to hear from Japan. You will be the first person to know after me."

"Hmm." Aya mumbled skeptically.

"Aya, you do remember the plan to infiltrate Pollock's compound, don't you?"

"Using me for bait."

"Yes."

"I don't see how I could have agreed to that with everything else I remember."

"Most of your memories of me, Schuldig and Yohji have been tampered with. They were used as a means to break you."

Aya shivered in memory of the pitch black concrete cell he had been left in. Crawford wanted to gather him close but knew he wouldn't be welcomed.

"How long were we there?"

"Three days."

Aya nodded. He suddenly felt the need to be clean and away from Crawford. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. Still weak, his legs immediately buckled. Crawford caught him neatly. For an instant something, a sense of deja vu perhaps, flickered through Aya's mind and he relaxed in Crawford's hold before shoving him away and standing on his own.

"You need assistance, Aya, whether you admit it or not. If you won't accept my help maybe Yohji or Schuldig would be more acceptable."

Aya stood, confused, but mention of Schuldig's name prompted a glimmer of trust.

"Schuldig," Aya whispered.

Crawford let out a slow breath, bitterly disappointed. "At least let me help you to the bath and I'll get him."

Aya nodded guarded assent and made his way to his adjoining bath, borrowing Crawford's strength as little as possible. Every touch of the precog's hands threatened to drown him in a hundred memories that were nightmares. He didn't understand why he would have allowed such treatment of himself nor why he hadn't killed Crawford instead of following into a stronghold of evil. A light touch on his lower back made him gasp and shiver in lustful reaction that confused him. Did his traitorous body actually want the other man? Aya stepped away from Crawford and hid his face until the precog left.

"Kitten?" Schuldig's light, nasal tenor echoed off the tile. "Come, kitten, let's get you more comfortable and I'm sure you'll feel better afterwards. You must be stiff from being in a bed for a couple of days."

Aya made no comment as the telepath ran hot water in the large oval tub, adding a generous shake of some bath salts that prompted the raising of an elegant red eyebrow.

"One of your few indulgences, Kitten." Schuldig explained.

"I know that!" Aya snapped, "It just seem totally incongruous with what I remember. I don't remember having any freedom to choose a luxury or having a place of my own. I remember that Crawford kept me as a...as a," Aya faltered.

"Nein, Nein Kitten! He took you to bed, yes, but you were lovers. Crawford never used you. It's just more of Pollock's dirty work. He attempted to spoil every memory you had of your time with us."

"You all betrayed me and handed me to that monster," Aya accused. The pain and shock was still evident in his voice.

"You know it was part of the plan. You had to believe it or we wouldn't have succeeded."

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Aya mumbled.

"Believe this, Aya. We did everything we could and would have sacrificed even more to get you back with us."

"Why?" Aya's voice cracked with strain and hurt.

Schuldig dared to frame his face with his hands and stroke his cheeks lightly.

"Because, kitten, you matter to us. You are one of us, and I made you a promise to bring you back. I never go back on a promise."

Aya's confusion and pain resonated through Schuldig's mind and made his eyes sting. It pained him to see his friend so torn with doubt. He swallowed nervously.

"Come, into the bath with you."

Suiting action to words, he helped Aya slip off the robe and step naked into the tub. Aya gasped again and ran questing fingers over the stitched cross on his chest and abdomen. The prickly feel of the stitches and the gruesome carving made him nauseous. He remembered the searing pain and being unable to move until finally his soul had howled in denial and lent him the strength to grasp Pollock by the throat. He remembered the feel of the man's blood flowing over his hand and arm until he ripped the throat apart.

Aya hunched forward to wrap his arms around himself. Schuldig slipped into the bath behind him without him noticing and started massaging his shoulders.

"What?"

"Shhh, Aya. Just let me take care of you, or I can go get Brad for you."

"No!"

"Then let me help, but he is very worried for you. I never thought anyone could touch the icy Oracle's heart, but you did."

"I don't remember anything like that." Aya swished the water in agitation. "Why do I trust you? You betrayed me, too."

"Part of the plan, Aya. Keep that in mind, please. I didn't want to do it at all, so I left a suggestion of hope and recovery in your subconscious. You're reacting to that."

Aya leaned back against the telepath's chest weakly. "Help me," he whispered. "Can you fix what was done to me?"

"Nein," Schuldig said sadly. "I can't fix the memories that I wasn't directly a part of, but I can give you awareness that the false ones are false. If you are aware then you can begin anew."

"Can't you just take away the false memories?"

"That would leave you with a hole in your being that you would always be aware of, Kitten. That wouldn't help you and would only make the situation worse."

Aya brooded and washed while Schuldig took care of his hair. He felt odd letting another man wash his hair like a child, but in a way it was comforting and calmed him somewhat. He allowed the telepath to help him from the tub and, after drying, get settled in comfortable loose pants and tunic.

A discreet knock on his door revealed Crawford holding a phone, a grim expression on his face. Trembling with trepidation, Aya took the phone. Crawford and Schuldig quietly moved to stand on either side of him unnoticed.

"Hai." Aya said into the phone.

"Aya-kun."

"Persia? Omi?"

"Hai, Aya-kun, Persia. Aya-kun it is my sad duty to inform you"The phone slipped from nerveless fingers and Aya fell to his knees, throwing his head back. He made no other sounds than hyperventilating gasps for air. He was dimly aware of Crawford picking up the phone and talking, getting details and information.  
Schuldig all but wrapped around him like a living blanket and Yohji crouched in front him, gripping his forearms. The helped him to his feet and he turned to face Crawford as the man closed the phone with a snap.

"I'm very sorry, Aya," Crawford said.

Aya grabbed him by the collar again to bring his burning, violet eyes level with Crawford's.

"I should have been there to protect her," he gasped.

"Then you would both be dead. Instead, you avenged her death."

Aya dropped his head to Crawford's chest in despair and shook violently. Crawford cautiously brought up his arms to encircle the grieving man until he held him tightly.

"What do I do now?" Aya asked of no one in particular.

"You live. She would want you to live."

"Live for what?" Aya asked bitterly.

"Live for us, Aya. Live for me. You're strong and you have us with you always. You have me. Somehow, if you'll let me, we'll make new memories to replace what Pollock destroyed."

Aya didn't say anything, but he allowed himself to be held. Something buried deep within himself was reacting to Crawford's voice, soothing him and keeping him in the embrace. For the first time in years, he let go of his self control enough to allow tears and enable him to grieve for his sister. He never saw Schuldig and Yohji leave, nor did he notice when Crawford moved them to the bed and just held him until he slept.

When Aya woke his eyes felt swollen and his face sticky with dried tears. Memory bludgeoned him with renewed knowledge of his sister's death. He tried to curl into a fetal position but a strong arm held him in place against a broad and warm chest. Aya turned to look at Crawford's sleeping face. He squelched his first instinct to draw away. He thought about everything that Schuldig had told him about Crawford and he being lovers. As promised, the telepath had given him awareness that the nightmarish memories were false, but he truly couldn't remember any warm or passionate times with Crawford.

Aya acknowledged that the man was very attractive. Even with his silver hair, in his sleep Crawford looked younger and less forbidding. The arms that held Aya were tight with possessiveness but gentle. He wasn't being restrained in any way. He could get away if he wanted to. Aya's brow furrowed. Did he want to? He wasn't sure any more. He knew that Crawford had held him all night, stroking his back and pressing light kisses over his face while he keened his grief. He couldn't imagine the cool and reserved Oracle doing something like that unless they had really been in a relationship.

He must have made some slight sound because Crawford's eyes slowly opened and regarded him warily. Aya gazed back, his grief and his confusion shining clearly in his eyes. Crawford carefully raised a hand to gently wipe away the salty moisture. Aya found himself turning into the touch, closing his eyes and drawing a shuddering breath. Yes, his body definitely remembered Crawford's touch. With his eyes closed Aya could let himself float on sensations and concentrate only on the soothing touch and the feel of the other man's heartbeat beneath his palm.

Crawford leaned forward and touched their lips together in a light kiss. Aya's eyes flew open with a gasp and lifted his hand to his tingling lips. It had felt warm and electric and achingly familiar. Forgetting his other troubles for a while, Aya gazed into Crawford's soft, honey gold eyes and put a stranglehold on his uncertainty. He tentatively tilted his head for another kiss and was rewarded with one, hot and arousing, that felt so right it erased some of the ache in his soul. One kiss led to another and another, each one deeper and fanning desire.

With some effort Crawford pulled back from Aya. He wouldn't take advantage of the man in his grief and need for comfort. Aya's face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, his evident desire blatant between them. He made a noise of impatience and reached for Crawford who caught his hands and held them.

"I don't want you to do something you might regret later, Aya," Crawford said.

Aya shook his head wordlessly and tugged at his hands. Crawford let him go and Aya hesitantly pressed their bodies together. He dragged Crawford's head down into a scorching kiss and shifted until the man was lying overtop him. Oh yes, his body remembered this, the familiar weight and feel of Crawford, the hands that knew where to touch him to make him writhe and want more.

"Aya," Crawford tried one last time to do the right thing.

"Brad," the name slipped easily from Aya's lips. "Please, Brad. I just want to forget for a little while that she's gone and I want to remember you. You said we were lovers and that you would always be here for me. Give me this."

Crawford's eyes softened more and his touches grew more confident and purposeful. If Aya really wanted this, then he would give it to him and do his best to make it memorable. Sure hands helped Aya lose his clothes and efficiently took care of his own. He pulled the redhead back under him and settled between his thighs to kiss his way down that lovely, white curve of neck. Crawford took care not to put too much pressure on the stitched injuries. Aya arched into every kiss, a silent demand for more.

Sliding lower Crawford opened his mouth over the head of Aya's erection and tongued it lightly. Aya groaned and his hips jerked in reaction. Crawford took him in and worked him with swirling strokes of his tongue and small grazings of his teeth. Aya's breathing changed to gasps and he wrapped his hands in Crawford's silver hair to drag him back up his body to ravage his mouth. He could tasted himself on Crawford's lips and that, too, was familiar. Aya was so hard now it was almost pain and his kisses and touches became more demanding.

He broke away long enough to gasp, "I want you. Give me more."

Crawford drew a shuddering breath and leaned over to paw through the bedside table. After a moment's rummaging he came up with a partially used tube of lubricant. Aya's eyes darkened with knowledge and the significance that the tube was in his room. Crawford slicked his fingers and urged Aya to raise his thighs up and around his waist. Aya impatiently let Crawford stretch and prepare him gently, but his body was screaming for satisfaction.

"Enough," he grated.

"Aya," Crawford said in a stern voice. "Not even if you wanted it would I ever really hurt you. We might play, but I have never caused you undue pain. I won't start now."

Crawford lined himself up and pushed in smoothly. Aya arched up sharply and tightened his legs to take him in to the hilt with a strangled moan. Yessss. He wanted this. He needed this.

Crawford held him by the waist to control the pace and they struggled in a battle for dominance. Crawford's position gave him greater leverage and he distracted Aya with long, stroking pulls that made him pliant once more. He thrust in and out, gradually increasing in speed and intensity as the feeling subsumed them both. Aya came first with low moan and the rippling feel of his orgasm pushed Crawford after him. They stayed frozen in place, panting in recovery. Crawford's arms trembled and his damp hair hung around his face. A strangled sob brought his head up quickly.

Tears ran slowly down Aya's face and he didn't seem to care.

"I believed you betrayed me," he choked.

Crawford pulled out and rolled to the side to smooth Aya's hair from his eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry it was necessary. I'm sorry there wasn't a better way. I didn't know he would hurt you that way."

"Alright." Aya wiped away his tears irritably and made the final decision to try and trust in himself and his teammates again.

"I can arrange for us to leave for Japan as soon as possible. That is, if you want us to come with you."

Aya's heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the reminder of his duty to his sister. Crawford held him again and he leaned into the other man's strength.

"I think," he said, slowly. "that I would like you to come."

"Then we'll be there for you," Crawford murmured. "We all will."

"Thank you," Aya said and lay in Crawford's embrace, his body sated and his mind comforted.

Down the hall, Schuldig finally relaxed for the first time since the whole debacle began and decided to wake Yohji to celebrate a little. They still had more to deal with, but Schwarz had Aya back. 


	31. Chapter 31

Author's note: It's been a fun four months living in the world of Weiss Kreuz. Unfortunately every story must end. This time I chose a happy one. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and commented. I have treasured each and every comment and bit of encouragement from every one of you. I hope you will continue to watch for my stories and we can journey together again. For now, I give you the final chapter of "It's All Relative." Love, LilyMoon

It was going to be at least a day before they could leave for Japan. Crawford pulled every string at his command and still couldn't get a flight any sooner for the four of them. Aya had just replied that it didn't matter and retreated to his room. He probably would have stayed there, too, if not for an endearingly annoying telepath who wouldn't just fucking give up on him and let him brood alone.

Crawford had to admit to himself that it rankled that Aya currently preferred Schuldig's company to his own. HE was Aya's lover, but so much had been ruined Crawford didn't know if anything would ever be the same or if it would even improve. To his consternation he had lost the ability to see the future for Aya the moment he realized how much the redhead meant to him. No one at Rosenkruz had ever warned him of the possibility and it had never been a problem before. The Oracle had never...cared for anyone before to such an extent. It was both humbling and frightening. It was definitely irritating as the object of his desire could barely stand to be in the same room with him.

He had caught Aya staring at him during meals a few times. Each time he had turned to acknowledge the man Aya had quickly turned away to continue picking at a meal he didn't want. Aya was despairingly thin from his treatment at the hands of Pollock and didn't seem inclined to fix the situation. Grief and hurt stole his appetite. Schuldig chivvied him into taking a few bites then got snarled at for trying to help. A little shame faced, Aya excused himself to return to his room. Yohji and Schuldig exchanged worried glances and held a telepathic conversation that excluded Crawford. Well, just grand. Crawford shoved back from the table in a temper and stalked up the stairs. Pausing by Aya's door he could hear the faint sounds of choked sobs. He placed his palm flat on the door and leaned his head against the jamb before heading to his own room.

Crawford stayed up reading far into the night half heartedly hoping Aya might choose to come to him. It never happened and he awoke the next morning with his glasses askew and his book on his chest. He showered, groomed and packed a travel bag then went down to breakfast. Yohji and Schuldig already sat at the table, Yohji picking at a plate of food and Schuldig dozing with a lock of flaming hair hanging in his mammoth coffee cup. Crawford felt a pang of something when Yohji carefully dried the lock of hair on a hand towel and replaced the cup with a fresh one. He pressed a kiss to the telepath's forehead and looked up at Crawford.

"He's in the garden," Yohji said somberly.

Crawford nodded and fixed two cups of tea to take outside. It was still slightly chill and he shivered in response. Aya sat on a patio chair with his knees drawn up and staring blankly. He didn't seem to notice the weather or Crawford's presence.

"We'll be leaving in a hour," Crawford said and placed the tea at Aya's side on the small table.

"I'll be ready," Aya replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Aya, have you given any thought to what you will want...after the funeral?"

"I can't think of that now. I just need to do my duty to my sister."

They sipped their tea in silence until Aya got up to return to the house. They all gathered in the garage for the drive to the airport. Schuldig clung to Yohji in the back seat and kept peeking at Aya from under his fall of hair. It was obvious he was still linked to Aya from the bereft expression on his face and red rimmed eyes. Once on the plane he took his sedative from Crawford without an argument and settled against Yohji like a hurting child. Crawford offered the same sedative to Aya and received a stony glare in response.

Things didn't improve after the touched down in Japan. If anything, Aya become more icy and untouchable. Takatori Mamarou met them personally and escorted them to a waiting limousine. He tried to engage both Aya and Yohji in conversation and was treated to a pair of contemptuous glares. He looked to Crawford who only returned his questioning look blandly. If the former Weiss had no desire to renew ties with their old teammate he wasn't going to interfere.

The funeral itself was small, quiet and traditional. Crawford stood at Aya's side, but there might as well have been a room's worth of distance between them. Aya remained dry eyed and stoic, his face very pale and drawn. Because of both the nature of their lives and the closely guarded secret of Aya-chan's death, there were no mourners except for a couple of former and current Krittiker agents. Aya ignored them all and dismissed their condolences. Takatori himself even finally gave up trying to talk and left with his security retinue soon after it was all over.

Crawford grasped Aya's elbow lightly and guided the passive man to the car waiting to take them to a hotel for the night. He had once again booked a two bedroom suite in a luxury hotel. Aya excused himself to one of the bedrooms and shut the door. The other three gathered in the salon area.

"Yohji," Schuldig began a little hesitantly. "With Pollock gone Esset is essentially crippled permanently. There is no one else as strong to try and bring it back to life. The fight is done. What will you do now?"

Yohji looked a bit startled at the question. "I never thought about it. I guess that I'll just continue with Schwarz."

Schuldig's face lit up and a worry he had carried for days lifted off his heart. Yohji had basically said he preferred to stay with them, with him. Unable to sit still he jumped up and fixed them both a drink from the mini bar.

"Want something, Crawford?" He asked.

The leader of Schwarz inclined his head in agreement, his brow creased thoughtfully. Schuldig handed him a squat glass and cocked his head at his leader.

"What do you think Aya will do now?"

Crawford took a deep swallow from his glass before answering. The potent liquor burned his throat and emphasized the bitterness he felt.

"Whatever he wants, I imagine. He'll probably leave us in order to forget."

"And you'll just let him go?" Schuldig asked.

"I won't force him to stay." Crawford spat angrily.

Schuldig handed his glass to Yohji and folded his arms over his chest to sneer at Crawford.

"I never thought I'd see the day Brad Crawford turned out to be a coward."

Crawford set his glass down with a thunk and whirled on Schuldig to punch the telepath dead in the mouth. He didn't even look back as Schuldig hit the floor and strode with purposeful steps to the bedroom, opening the door and slamming it behind him.

Yohji helped his lover up from the floor and frowned at the sight of the blood trickling from the split lip.

"Was that really necessary?" Yohji asked with a sigh.

Schuldig grinned impishly at him and winced as it pulled at his cut lip.

"Oh, absolutely."

Yohji tenderly licked at the cut and brushed silky red hair back from Schuldig's face.

"Then let's hope your gamble pays off."

Aya lifted his head from where it lay on his crossed arms on the bed when Crawford slammed into the room.

"What the hell?"

"What are your intentions, Aya?"

"I...I don't know."

Not satisfied, Crawford jerked him up from the bed and pulled him into his arms. Aya struggled in protest and Crawford crushed his lips in a ruthless, dominating kiss. He ravaged and plundered without mercy until the redhead quit resisting and clung to his arms. Crawford herded Aya backwards towards the bed and pinned him to the mattress. He tore at their clothes until they were both wrestling naked on the bed. Crawford bit and sucked at Aya's pale neck, eliciting gasps of pleasure and leave tangible marks of his dominance. He kept Aya pinned while he reached a hand down for the travel bag on the floor and searched it. Slapping what he found down on the comforter, he caught Aya's jaw in his hand and searched the dazed violet eyes.

"I don't care that you don't remember being with me in any way that's good," Crawford rasped. "We'll make new memories."

"I don't.."

Crawford stopped Aya's reply with another bruising kiss. He snatched up the tube and prepared them both efficiently then plunging forward to another cry from his lover. When he released Aya's arms he was gratified that they curved around his back to clutch tightly as they moved together in frantic rhythm. Crawford used every bit of his knowledge of Aya's body to drive the man to voice his pleasure. The tendons on his neck stood out with tension as he kept a tight reign on himself until he could bring Aya to climax. With a shout and a sob, Aya clenched around his body and arched off the bed, stunned and panting. Crawford dropped his head to Aya's forehead and followed him.

Still buried deep and shivering with aftershock, Crawford spoke directly into Aya's ear.

"You are mine. Stay with me, Aya."

After a long, uncertain moment Aya relaxed under the other man.

"I'll think about it."

Crawford let out a slow breath and eased to the bed to hold his lover against his body. It wasn't a declaration and it wasn't a promise, but maybe, just maybe, it was enough for both of them.

Schuldig squirmed under Yohji in their bed and smirked.

"Mission accomplished, babe."

Yohji laughed and returned to exploring the lithe body that reveled in his touch.

-fin- 


End file.
